Troublesome Girl
by 50ftQueenie
Summary: "Follow her," Art tells Raylan. "After all the work we've put towards shutting Boyd Crowder down, I'll be really disappointed if she's the one who gets to kill him off." Language, drugs, sex, violence- for these are a few of my favorite things. Not slash.
1. Chapter 1

I do not own Justified or "Fire in the Hole"*. The title comes from a song by Cory Branan.

_**Troublesome Girl**_

_As the days roll past with no final 'at last' I find there's little that I can't forgive..._

One-

Maybe he should just make it his ringtone: _Raylan, we've found a body… _He sure as hell hears it enough, and the message always comes complete with an invitation down to Harlan to view the deceased. These days, it seems everyone who dies in Harlan County gets a courtesy call from Marshall Givens- everyone with a connection to or on the opposite side of the fence from Boyd Crowder. That's pretty much everyone.

This morning, he's driving into the National Forest on the north side of the county. The road is narrower than the highway and lined tight on either side by trees. There's no question as to his destination- a squad car and a Fish and Games truck are parked by the side of the road about four miles into the park. The sheriff's deputy is firing wasted shots at crows and raccoons trying to creep in on the body. The conservation officer looks on, shifting on his feet, nervous and annoyed.

If they hadn't been there waiting, Raylan could've followed the smell.

"Good morning," he says to the deputy and the Wildlife guy. "How long has it been here, would you guess?"

"Couple of weeks," the Conservation officer replies. "Shallow grave, so he's ate up pretty good."

"Who do we know who's missing?"

"We'd been looking for a girl went missing from Audrey's place over by Cumberland. Ain't no girl though. Male, late twenties or early thirties. Inked up with that skinhead shit. There's a wallet lying on the body, but we haven't touched it. Figured we'd wait for you."

Raylan nods. He lets the deputy lead him to the body. The Fish and Game guy stays back. The body has been mutilated by animals. Raylan can see patterns from tattoos on the neck and chest, but the picking and nibbling have disrupted the flesh to the point where he can't make out the designs.

The deputy nods at the open wallet laid at the body's feet. Raylan finds a stick and lifts the wallet away. It is empty of cash. Whoever buried him robbed him as well, but made no attempt to disguise the identity of the dead man. The ID- an identity document only, the kind usually given out to someone whose driver's license has been revoked for a substantial amount of time- is intact.

"You know him?" The deputy asks.

"I know him," Raylan says. "I never forget a man who threatens to kill on me on the front steps of a church."

* * *

><p>Raylan returns to the Marshall's office from a lunch break that had begun at noon the previous day. Tim Gutterson jumps up and away from his desk quick enough to sprain something.<p>

"Didn't get lunch yesterday," he grumbles as he pushes past Raylan. "Damned sure not going to miss it today."

Raylan looks over at Rachel, baffled. Rachel shakes her head, herself mystified that Raylan doesn't get why Tim is so pissed off.

"Art's waiting for you," is all she says.

"Shit," Raylan says. "I was supposed to bring him a sandwich."

"Yesterday, Raylan. I don't think it matters at this point. In fact, I wouldn't bring it up."

She nods to indicate that Art is coming up from behind.

"Well, I'd say that the prodigal son has returned, but that might indicate a closer relationship than I'd prefer to have with you at this point, Raylan," Art says. "Do you know what happens around here when Tim gets hungry? It's not pretty. In fact, it's downright ugly."

"And how would you be able to tell?" Raylan asks.

Art ignores him. "If you were a wise man, I'd expect to see some ass-kissing upon Deputy Gutterson's return."

"I'll be standing ready," Raylan says.

Art shakes his head and motions Raylan toward his office.

"You've come back just in time. There's a young lady in my office would like to speak to you. She says her name is Eden Raney. She's from down by your neck of the woods."

"Raney…why do I know Raneys?"

"Quite a little story there. The recent dearly departed from Boyd's crew- the one you went to view out in the woods last week- was Devlin Raney."

"So, she's his sister?"

Art shakes his head. "Says she's his wife. Says she's been married to the so-called Devil for the better part of a decade, which- from the looks of her- means she married him when she was about fourteen. Did I ever tell you how much your hometown scares me?"

Raylan leans to the side to peer around Art.

Art continues: "They haven't been together for about four years, though, since he got sent to Little Sandy. She left him then, but never divorced him, and then she couldn't find him. She's been trying to get him to sign papers for the last couple of years, it seems."

"Why didn't she just take it to a judge? If he failed to appear, she should have had her divorce."

"From the sounds of things, Harlan County decided to use her as bait. They wouldn't sign the order unless he appeared. Wanted him to come down off the mountain to face some other charges."

"I'm sure there were many," Raylan says.

Art nods. "There were a lot. Enough to send him back up on a parole violation or three. Still, it's hardly right of them to keep her tangled up in it."

"Well, did you inform her that the divorce will no longer be necessary?"

"I did. She looks like she's holding it together, but she says she still wants to talk to you."

Raylan shrugs. "Well, there's no need to thank me. I didn't shoot him."

"Be nice. She's a grieving widow."

"I thought you said she was looking to divorce him."

"She was," Art says. "And now she'll never get the satisfaction."

Raylan follows Art into his office. He takes his hat off as he enters and offers his hand to the girl. He guesses that she's older than Art thinks she is, but not much. Whatever the case, she's aged well considering.

Art says, "Ma'am, this is Marshall Givens."

The girl nods and stands up. Raylan looks her over and thinks _what the hell_ to himself. It's not just that she's pretty, but she has a charming and timid look to her. Her make-up isn't overdone and her wavy blonde hair is tousled rather than teased. No visible tattoos. Her nose doesn't appear to have ever been broken. The only recognizable to nod towards Devil and his lifestyle are the black biker boots she's got her jeans tucked into. She's wearing a black and white striped t-shirt that reminds Raylan, for some reason, of mimes.

"I'm sorry for your loss, Mrs. Raney," he says.

"Thank you, sir," she says. "But I lost him a long time ago. All's this means is I can stop looking."

Art tells her, "Marshall Givens grew up in Harlan. He's had some experience with your late-husband."

The girl nods. She looks away at the wall between Raylan and Art. A small, sick smile forms on her lips.

"I know. A friend of mine was up here on some business. Told me she heard Devil's name floating around. Told me to ask for Marshall Givens. Is he here- Devil?"

"No, ma'am. He's down in Cumberland, at the morgue."

"Should I go down to identify him, or collect him or…"

Art tells her, "Mrs. Raney, your husband's remains were found in very poor condition. The extent of his injuries…"

"What happened to him?"

"We believe he was shot."

"By one of those fucking Crowders?" The sudden bite in her voice knocks Art and Raylan off guard. They exchange glances.

Art plays it cool. "We don't know, ma'am. If you'd like, we can put in a call to Harlan County and let them know you'll collect your husband's remains and his effects."

"What was your name again?" Raylan asks. He still can't place her. She's young enough that he wouldn't have known her in high school. Still, it isn't often that he needs to be introduced to someone from his hometown.

"Eden Raney," she says. "Eden Harper. Can I go back to being Eden Harper now? Is that how it works?"

Art says, "I don't really know how that works, ma'am. You have to file for a new social security card, and…ma'am, you really don't have to worry about this now. I'll call down to Cumberland, and if you want to leave your number, we can get a hold of you when they're ready for you to take him."

She nods. She takes the pen and tablet when Art hands it to her. She writes down a cell number, but no address.

"Alright, Ms. Raney. We'll give you a call as soon as we know anything. Do you live here in Lexington?"

"I have been," she says. "I guess I'm headed back down to Cumberland."

Art frowns and exchanges glances with Raylan.

The girl whispers a barely audible 'thank you', stands and walks through the door when Raylan opens it.

Art watches her until she gets as far as the elevators and then says to Raylan, "Follow her. After all the work we've put towards shutting Boyd Crowder down, I'll be really disappointed if she's the one who gets to kill him off."

* * *

><p>an: In "Fire In The Hole", Devil's last name is Ellis. He never had one on Justified. I'm using Raney in this story because it's a different universe than my story "Moonshine Blind" and because I just like the sound of it.


	2. Chapter 2

I do not own Justified. I'm partial to the "Fire in the Hole" and the look of first-season Devil, but I don't own either one.

**Troublesome Girl- Two**

She doesn't get too far. Raylan finds her sitting on the steps of the court house with her face in her hands. People step around her and don't pay any mind. A young girl crying on the court house steps doesn't attract attention. Girls find out here all the time that they've lost their husbands and boyfriends in some way or another.

"Ma'am," he says and stoops to tug her up by the arm. "Why don't you let me give you a ride somewhere?"

She stands and lets him lead her down the steps. The Town Car that Raylan has claimed as his own is parked at the end of the block. They walk to it in silence. He opens the passenger door for her and then walks around to the other side.

"I grew up west of Cumberland," he tells her as he's starting the car. "Didn't know any Harpers, though. Who're your people?"

"Just my mama. Harper's her name. Didn't know my daddy."

Raylan hmms. The last name still isn't ringing any bells.

She seems to sense this and explains, "I grew up all over. My mom and I sort of got stuck in Cumberland between her communal living experiments. Devil and me met in high school. Got married right after I graduated, the day after. We took off to Knoxville and got married by a judge."

"Well, Knoxville does have a nice view of the Smokies. I guess that's kind of romantic."

She smiles for the first time since leaving Art's office. "He had a warrant in Perry County. Couldn't walk into a courthouse in Kentucky or they'd have held him. That's how we started out- living in the back of his car, staying ahead of his warrants. It's kind of cool when you're eighteen."

"I suppose it would be," Raylan says.

He asks her where she needs to go. She tosses up one hand in a hopeless gesture. Raylan asks her if she'd like to get some coffee.

"Yeah. Yes, sir. I guess. I took the day off because I thought I'd be waiting on going to court all day. Got nowhere to go but home. I don't want to go home."

Raylan suggests she could go to a bar. She smirks.

"It's a little early for me, Marshall. I don't like to start drowning my sorrows until at least three. After that, though, it's anybody's game."

They drive in silence and she looks out the window- up at the buildings as they roll past. Raylan sneaks a look over at her now and then to see if she's started crying again, but to his relief she hasn't. She's looking up at the Lexington skyline like she's never see buildings so tall before. She's seen them but, Raylan guesses, everything looks different to her now.

He pulls up in front of a diner that he and Art frequent, but no one else seems to go to. Tim came with them maybe once. The lunch crowd has gone on its way. The place is empty but for a couple of old ladies mulling over their pie choices at the counter.

Eden opens her door and meets him on the sidewalk before he can walk around to open it for her. Raylan makes a gesture to indicate that he could have- should have- done that and they exchange confused looks.

"How about I get this one?" He says and holds the door to the diner open for her.

The waitress recognizes him and takes them to a table where Raylan can sit with his back to the wall. Eden is amused by this. Raylan sees a glint in her eyes before she looks away. This maneuver- keeping one's back to the wall- is one she recognizes.

"Well, I'm going to eat," Raylan announces. "No telling where the rest of the day'll take me. Got to eat when I can. If you want something, it's on the Marshall's Service. Your tax dollars at work."

"Assuming I pay my taxes," she says. She smiles, but still avoids his eyes. She's joking, but she isn't sure yet if he'll get it.

"So you do know Boyd."

"Yeah, I know Boyd," she says. "Are you going to take care of him? If he didn't kill Devil, he had a hand in it. I'd bet my Marshall's Service meal ticket on that."

"We're working on Boyd," Raylan tells her.

His answer disappoints her; she rolls her eyes.

"You know how many times I had opportunity to shoot that son of a bitch? Or poison him or something? Christ, used to stay at that compound of his. I could've smothered him with a pillow. I should've done it and we'd all be better off."

"Well, I don't know that you'd necessarily be better off at Pewee Valley," Raylan says. The waitress brings their coffee and he thanks her. "And I _have_ shot Boyd. A lot of good it did."

Eden smiles and finally looks him in the eye.

"I know," she says. "They told me to find you. Said you were the one who shot Boyd Crowder. Arlo's your daddy, right? They said you and me- we know how Harlan operates as much as a body can without getting dragged down with it. Seems we have a common interest. Or a common affliction."

"I'm guessing you mean Boyd. I got to ask you, Ms. Raney, if your husband was still alive would we have a common interest still? Because if he was still alive, I'd be going after him same as I am Boyd."

"Fair enough," she says. "Would it satisfy you if I said I don't know? All's I wanted was a divorce. Doesn't mean I don't still care for the idiot. Before your boss told me Devil was dead, my biggest fear in the world was that I'd have to see him again in court and that I'd regret it. Leaving him, I mean. I'd see him and I'd cave. That's what scared me the most. Truth told things just got a lot less complicated for me. Wondering 'what if'- would I see him and still love him, would I still be talking to you- all of that's no longer worth thinking on."

She stops speaking and straightens up in her seat when the waitress comes back for their orders. Eden isn't ready, but she motions for Raylan to go ahead while she makes a quick study of the menu.

He looks her over again while he speaks to the waitress, unable to shake the feeling that there is something familiar about her. She says she'd spent time at Boyd's compound, yet he doesn't remember seeing her name on any list of his connections. Her name wasn't even listed as a relative or associate of Devil's. Raylan remembers that Devil had brothers, maybe a sister, but no wife was ever mentioned.

Eden orders toast and fruit when her turn comes. She gives him an almost-apologetic smile when the waitress leaves them.

"I'm sort of a vegetarian. Don't eat eggs, sausage. Got my own brand of extremism, I guess."

Raylan takes another sip of his coffee. "Couldn't get along without eggs. I seen a hog butchered, and if I wanted to think about it that could probably put me off sausage and bacon, but eggs… got to have eggs. Can I ask who your friends are- the ones who told you to come to me?"

"Just a couple of girls from high school, ones who didn't make it out, ended up working for Johnny Crowder."

Raylan nods. "So you know Johnny, too."

"Yeah, and- shit- I ought to go on down there and see him. Should have gone when he was laid up. I worked for him too. Not like that- I was a waitress in his bar. He and I got along alright. He was always taking up for me, having to remind Boyd and Bowman's old man that I was married and not looking for the other kind of work."

"Johnny and I played baseball together in high school."

Eden nods. Raylan tells her:

"I get the feeling maybe you shouldn't go down the Harlan for a while, Ms. Raney. I feel like we're doing a bit of a dance here, though. I can't quite put my finger on who's going to be in more danger if you do."

"You think I'm going to try to kill Boyd Crowder, Marshall?"

"It had crossed my mind. Crossed my boss' mind, too, which is why you're getting lunch."

She smiles and looks out the window, nodding.

"Ms. Raney," Raylan prods her. "Are you going to try to kill Boyd Crowder?"

She looks back at Raylan, still smiling. "It had crossed my mind. Do you have to call me 'Ms. Raney'? I'd like to start distancing myself from that. Can you call me 'Ms. Harper'?"

"Alright, Ms. Harper, the United States Marshall's Service would appreciate it greatly if you didn't kill Boyd Crowder."

This gets a full-fledged grin from her.

"Okay, that's not going to work either. I'm not going to remember that I'm Ms. Harper. Can you call me Eden?"

"Eden, the United States Marshall's…"

"Yeah, yeah," she says.

"Why don't you just tell me what you know about Boyd and Devil, then?"

"I haven't seen either of them in three, four years. Not since Devil last got sent up. I can't believe you all haven't poured hours into researching them."

"True," Raylan tells her. "But we didn't know about you. I grew up in Harlan and I never heard of you or your mama. Tell me about yourself, and maybe I can fish out something that's helpful regarding Devil and Boyd."

She nods and turns herself to lay her legs across the seat of the booth.

"You think you want a murder mystery, but you're going to get a love story, Marshall," she tells him.

"That's alright," Raylan says. "I have an iron stomach. And I think there's still going to be plenty of mystery in it, Ms. Harper. You and Devil together is about as big a mystery as this boy can fathom."


	3. Chapter 3

I do not own Raylan, Devil or Justified.

Your reviews are very kind. I can take con-crit like a big kid, so feel free to fire at will. Please let me know if this one is hard to follow. How to punctuate it nearly drove me batty.

**Troublesome Girl- Three**

Eden Harper Raney leans over the back of the booth and steals the ashtray from the next table. She digs a pack of Camels out her bag, sets them on the table, and nods towards them.

"Smoke, Marshall?"

"No, ma'am, but it won't bother me if you do."

She shakes a cigarette out of the pack and taps it down on the table.

"Filthy habit," she says.

Raylan replies, "I don't have any of those."

"That's a damned shame," she says and lights up.

For the first drag, she holds it between her thumb and index finger like she's smoking a joint. Raylan wonders if she picked up that habit before or after she met Devil and if it's one she still has.

"So, me and the Devil…" She begins. "I always got a charge out of saying that. When people know the song, they think he must've beat on me, but he never did. You know- 'I'm gonna beat my woman till I get satisfied'… I just liked saying 'Me and the Devil'. If you want to read anything into it, you could say that I sold my soul for a time, I guess.

"When we were kids…well, everybody we knew was so caught up in the break-up-to-make-up kind of relationship. You know how it is. That's all we'd ever seen growing up, and we knew we didn't want to be like that, but I guess we didn't know how to be different. We used to fight, and I did my share of pushing and shoving, but he never did hit me. He had a few names he liked to call me, but mostly he liked to pout. Punched a few walls and broke some stuff, but he never hit me.

"Once I seen that wife of Bowman Crowder's- the one that took him out, what's her name? I saw her all beat up, and I said to Devil later I'd kill him in his sleep if he ever did that to me. And he said, 'the hell would I do that for? Bowman's a pussy. Jesus Christ on the Cross, the damned fool's six-foot-five and he needs to pound on her? Shit, I know I could tune you up, so why would I?'

"We were sixteen when we met, and we were almost like feral kids. My mama had some problems. She was sick a lot, like locked up in the State Hospital in Lexington kind of sick. I never did find out what they diagnosed her with. I'd guess she had manic depression- sometimes she'd just take off for days and party and then she'd come home and wouldn't function at all. Wouldn't eat or nothing- just sit there and stare at the wall. I used to go in and out of foster homes quite a bit, but as I got older the social workers'd let me stay at home by myself as long as I went to school and didn't raise Cain. So, I got the reputation for being a real shy kid, kind of a weirdo, but it's cause I was always just trying to lay low and stay out of foster care.

"Devil's daddy was the kind who would beat on anyone who came within arm's reach. Used to toss Devil and his brothers out of the house if they looked at him sideways. We met up one night drinking and riding around with friends.

"When I took off with my friends that night, I didn't know it was their intention to leave town so I didn't bring a coat. We ended up in the State park at a kegger- you know how everyone goes up there to party in high school? I guess it has something to do with it not being county jurisdiction. If we got busted, they'd have to call in someone to take us all to jail. We'd have time to run for it. That sound about right?

"I was a little stoned and just smiling off into space, and he comes up to me and asks, 'Is that smile for me?' When I didn't have an answer, he asked me what he had to do to change that. I told him he could get me a beer. My intention was to take off as soon as he had his back turned."

Raylan asks, "Because you didn't like him?"

"Shit, no- because I did and I didn't know what to do about it. I was so backwards about socializing with people, and he was cute. He had these eyes…Jesus Christ, beautiful eyes that were so icy and blue they were terrifying. He was filthy though- like he'd slept in his car for a week wearing the same clothes and not washing his hair. Turns out, I called that right. His dad had kicked him out and he'd been couching it with friends and his brother's dope-dealing buddies all over Harlan County.

"It started to get cold and he gave me this flannel shirt he had on him to wear. Told me I could wear it home- that if I had his shirt then I'd have to let him see me again. Kissed me like he knew me a lot better than he did, and we went our separate ways.

"Must've been a month passed and I saw him on the street in Cumberland. I tried to duck away and hide, but he saw me and asked why I wasn't talking to him. And I was like, 'what the hell- you're the one who hasn't talked to me. I still have your shirt.' He told me he was staying with his brother, and he could sure use that extra shirt.

"We just wandered around Cumberland talking about probably nothing. I don't remember anymore. Finally, I asked him if he wanted to come back to my place and clean up or something. My mama was pulling a 72-hour hold somewhere. I was all alone at home. So, he came back with me and took a shower and I made something to eat, and then he just never left. I mean, sometimes he went home if I my mama was around, or sometimes I went to his place if his daddy was AWOL, but we just stuck together after that- like we were playing house. For a long time, I didn't even really know if he was my boyfriend. I mean, we were sleeping together from day one, but we weren't staring at a wall or trying to kill each other. Whatever we were doing, we figured we were already one-up on our parents.

"Then one time- I guess when we were seniors…or I was a senior, he'd dropped out by then…we're at my house making macaroni and cheese and he says to me, 'We should do this all the time.'

"And I think I said, 'Do what- fuck in the shower and eat mac-and-cheese?'

"And he says, 'Well, that too, but we should just stay together.'

"I think he liked me because I could keep up with his living like Huck Finn. He'd started dealing and doing drops for his brother when he was still in junior high. The only class he could ever pass in school without trying was Geography. He got an A in it when we were juniors, and he was so embarrassed. He couldn't have fucked up in there if he wanted to. Devil knew maps, and he had this sense of direction like one of those Capistrano swallows or a sea turtle or something. You know those animals that come back to the same place generations over? That was Devil. You could about blindfold him, turn him around a few times and drop him off anywhere in the Appalachians and he'd find his way home again."

Raylan smirks. "Sounds like maybe you tried."

"Won't say I never gave it any thought. Anyway, he could just go off into the hills, rifle slung over his shoulder, whistling "Dixie" and disappear. Come back three days later with twenty-five pounds of weed that he bought or held someone up for.

"I don't know what made him decide to start taking me with him. Maybe he missed getting laid. Anyway, he just waltzes into my mama's place one day after I got home from school and says we- him and me- are walking across the state line tonight. Tells me it'll be fun. Other men take their girls to dinner and the movies, so I hear.

"Doesn't even ask me if I want to go. Just says I got to wear boots on account of the snakes, and I got to learn to handle a gun also on account of the snakes. Hands me a Beretta 9, and asks if I've ever been camping. I told him, Jesus, my mama dragged me across the country living communes, trying to be a hippie. Before I got here, all we did was camp. He was elated. Never knew that about me before, and now he was certain he'd struck gold.

"So, off we went. Drove as far as we could and left the truck in an abandoned barn, and then we walked into Tennessee. He never did let me go all the way to meet the dealers with him. Tried to tell me it was 'cause I was too cute, made me too recognizable. Shit, I know those people are paranoid enough that they won't deal with anyone they haven't met a million times. So, I always stayed back where ever we were camped. Him and his brothers had three or four little sights laid out in the mountains. The one on the Tennessee line was the best because there was an old bootlegger's cabin there and we could sleep in a bed. It was far enough away from everything we could have a good fire, too, and cook us real food.

"I'm a terrible cook inside a house, but-like I said- I grew up outdoors. I can cook some shit over a fire.'

She pauses to examine Raylan's face to see if he believes her.

"This what you want to know? You're not asking too many questions."

Raylan just nods at her and pushes his eggs yokes around with his toast. Truth is he likes hearing her talk. Maybe it isn't that there's something familiar about Eden herself; maybe it's where she's from that makes her familiar. There were plenty of times growing up- when Arlo would run him off- that Raylan spent the night in the hills. Hearing someone else talk about it like it's the most natural thing in the world makes him almost nostalgic for it.

None the less, the day is on the wane, and what she's told him isn't anything that will be useful to him or her as far as putting Boyd Crowder away. In fact, she's barely mentioned the Crowders. Her smile and the way she stares across the diner at the wall without really focusing in on anything tells him that she looks upon her early years with Devil like…he smirks to himself…some kind of Eden.

"So you were eighteen when you got married and together- what?- a couple of years before he got sent up, right?" Raylan asks. "Up to here to Lexington for distributing? I can imagine that would be hard on a marriage."

Eden shrugs. She lights another cigarette. She looks down and away, avoiding eye contact again. She was enjoying telling her tale, caught up in it. Raylan has forced her back on track towards the parts that will be harder to tell, and she's not ready to go there yet.


	4. Chapter 4

I own nothing.

Going on Spring Break, so there might be a bit of a wait before the next chapter. After this one, I promise a little less conversation, a little more action. ;)

**Troublesome Girl- Four**

"Yeah, when we were twenty," Eden says to Raylan. "And the funny thing was his getting sent the first time worked out just fine for me. It was my ticket out of Harlan. He got twenty-three months up here- at KSCI- for distributing and something about a gun he had. I drove up to visit him two weeks in a row and figured out I was never going to be able to afford the gas. There was a couple of other ladies, wives of inmates, who told me they'd hook me up if I wanted to move up here.

"Damn, I jumped at it. Went home, packed up my shit, and moved. Never even asked Devil what he thought. Just showed up at visiting hours the next week and told him we had a new phone number. And back then, before Boyd Crowder, Devil just thought it was cute. When we were kids and I'd do something off, somebody'd always say, 'Devil, can't you keep a lid on your woman' and he'd just say, 'nope'. Told me it was fine by him- wouldn't have to pay long distance to talk dirty to each other on the phone anymore."

"Well, then I needed a job, so I got one waiting tables in this café over by KU. I met students all the time, and I realized I wasn't any dumber than they were. Didn't figure I was ready for KU, though, and I didn't have good grades from high school 'cause I barely showed up. I signed up at Bluegrass and I went to school. Didn't tell Devil about that for half a semester."

"Did he think that was cute?" Raylan asks.

"I think it scared him. They had him working on a GED, though, so I convinced him it was like we were going to school together. I never thought he was dumb. Some people just don't do school, you know? He's dumb about people, I won't deny that, but he's not all dumb."

Aside from reading maps, Raylan isn't the least bit sure what Devil was good at. Eden doesn't elaborate.

"So, I went to school. Was on the homestretch of my Associates and was really thinking maybe I'd try to get into KU when he got out. I guess he did a year and half the first time and got cut loose 'cause he was such a Boy Scout on the inside. The transition office hooked him up with some construction company up here. So, he gets released and I'm waiting there to pick him up, thinking we're going home to order a pizza and lock ourselves in the bedroom for three days. He tells me we're going down to Harlan, baby. There's this dude down there was real good to him while he was in, and he's going to set Devil up with some shit.

"Hesaid the name: Boyd Crowder- the man's like an urban legend in Harlan. When we were in high school, it's like we all knew he existed, but no one ever saw him. I think mothers invoke his name to scare their kids into being good. 'Knock it off or the Crowders'll get you!' I heard his name and I knew we were in trouble.

"We stayed down there for three days, sleeping on Boyd's couch under that fucking German flag. Made me sick to my stomach, thought I'd never be able to look my black friends in the eye ever again. All those wannabe Nazis looking me over. Felt like I was waiting around to get raped. Boyd treated me fine, but I didn't like him. I didn't know what his game was then; I just didn't like his eyes.

"I kept whining to Devil that we needed to get back up to Lexington and meet his PO. He kept telling me, 'yeah, yeah, baby, we're going' and then we never would. One night, there was this big party, and a bunch of girls from Audrey's came around. The next morning, I caught a ride- I know a couple of them from high school- and I caught a ride into Cumberland and then hitched back up to Lexington. I had to go back to work, you know.

"I figured Devil'd pout for a couple of days then wander up himself or call me and tell me to get my ass back down there. I'll be damned if he didn't beat me back. He was waiting in the living room seething like a branded bull when I got there. We got in a huge fight about it. He told me I wasn't to embarrass him in front of Boyd, that he needed Boyd to take him serious. I told him then he'd better start taking me serious. We threw some stuff around, and then we had to clean it all up because his PO was coming the next morning. By the time we were finished, we were wrestling on the floor and laughing at each other.

"So, the PO shows up and Devil looks like a citizen 'cause he's got an apartment, and a college student wife, and a job lined up. I didn't like the looks of that dude from the second he walked in the door, but I figured it was Devil had to deal with him, not me. Till Devil goes to work the next day, and that PO comes knocking on our door again. I was so dumb about that kind of thing. I just figured he was checking to see if Devil really went to work. So I let him in. He's chatty for a little while, and then he gets down to it: that I can do things to help Devil or I can do things that will hurt him. Makes it real clear that how easy he goes on Devil will depend on my talents and my willingness to use them. Said he'd just stop back sometime and that he hoped I would be cooperative.

"I knew I couldn't tell Devil because Devil'd kill him, and then where would we be? I was so dumb. Nowadays, I'd know to call legal aid or that women's resource place that the University has. Back then, though, I just thought I was trapped.

"So you called Boyd?" Raylan already knows the answer.

"I called Boyd. He gave me some smooth line about my abrupt departure and how he hoped his boys hadn't done anything _uncouth_…I swear, he used that word. And I should have hung up on his spooky ass right then, but I told him I needed his advice on something. I told him what happened and please don't tell Devil. He asked me the PO's name. I gave it to him, and he told me he'd take care of it. Then he invited us down to a cook-out that weekend. Said my reputation as a shitty cook had preceded me, but they could use some mayonnaise if we would bring some. Next week, Devil's got a new PO. Never saw the old one again. I wonder if anyone has. His name was Masterson- Alan Masterson. I always just hoped maybe they shook him down, rattled the guy a little, but I got the feeling…well, check into it, but I really don't want to know.

"After that, things were cool. I stayed in school. The sun rose and set and all. The new PO didn't give a damn what Devil did, and Devil was making good money. Then one day, the car wouldn't start or something. The engine light was on, and I had to call the construction company to find out where Devil was. The lady on the phone doesn't even recognize our last name. She has to look it up in a book, and she tells me he hasn't been employed by them for six months.

"I sat there and waited for him to get home. When he did, I jumped him about the job, and he said he'd been working for Boyd. He asked me if I was going to kick him out, and I should have, but I just asked him if he cheated on me when he was down in Harlan. Shit, I was so insecure that's all I cared about. He's telling me he's running around blowing up buildings with Boyd and the rest of the Hitler Youth and I was worried he was screwing around. I told him, no, I'd go along with it on two conditions: he couldn't get sent up again and he couldn't lie to me anymore. He had to tell me what was going on, and Devil…well, Devil wasn't great for keeping secrets. He would've made a shitty mobster. He told me everything, about every job they did, where they hit, who went with them…"

"…and you started writing it all down." Raylan is hopeful.

She nods. "Everything. I figured maybe- if Devil ever did get picked up- I could use it to prove that he was just working for Boyd. After a while, though, when it became clear to me that Devil and I were done and that Boyd was where his loyalties were…after that, I kept it because I decided that someday I was going to get Boyd Crowder for taking my husband away."

Again, Raylan is perplexed. He still doesn't understand the attraction or the loyalty to Devil. He gets the feeling of connection to their home turf, but not to the guy himself. In Raylan's experience, Devil was not only stupid, but he was sniveling. He took the Nazi b.s. by the horns, but- like Eden said- he couldn't keep a secret. On the night Raylan shot Boyd, it was Devil who gave up Boyd's intentions when Raylan jumped them in Dewey Crowe's car. Devil looked tough, but was easy to frighten. Eden is not only the smarter of the two, she's far and away the braver.

Raylan tells her as much. Eden shrugs, averts her eyes again, and stubs out her cigarette. She can't take a compliment. She hasn't had many, at least not for anything other than her looks. She doesn't know what to do with it.

She opens her bag and produces a notebook- it's one of those black and white composition note books with the speckled cover. She pushes it across the table to Raylan. There is nothing written in the label. The pages, however, are full of notes about Boyd Crowder's bank jobs. Devil really did tell her everything, and she wrote it all down.

"Well, now you've heard my big, dumb life story," she says. " I suppose that was me stalling to keep from going down to Cumberland."

"You don't have to go to Cumberland. He's not your husband and we don't need you to identify him. You don't have to do anything about it."

She smiles. "Yeah, I do. Somebody has to, and his dumbass daddy sure won't. I socked some money away. Might as well go scatter his ashes. Maybe clock Boyd over the head with the urn on my way out of town."

"Seems like a waste of an urn," Raylan tells her.

"Maybe I'll just get a coffee can then- Big Leibowski style. Devil'd like that. I got to go to Cumberland, though. It all went sour after a time, but we were really young. What the hell did we think was going to happen? Was a time when we took care of each other. I can't just write that off."

"As far as I know, they haven't released the body yet, Eden," Raylan tells her. He taps the notebook. "If you could hang around Lexington for a few days, I might have some questions about this."


	5. Chapter 5

I do not own Justified.

**Troublesome Girl- Five**

It's after five-thirty when Raylan drops Eden off at her apartment. She lives on the edge of the student ghetto on the first floor of a converted four-square house. There is couch on the front porch with a cat sitting on the arm. Eden scratches the cat between the ears when she gets to the door, but doesn't let it in. Raylan waits until he sees a light go on in the front window before pulling away.

Back in his room above the bar, he rids himself of his shirt and socks, opens a beer and sits down on his bed. He opens Eden's notebook on Boyd Crowder's doings, and decides after a couple of pages that this is good enough to warrant calling Art at home.

"No shit?" is Art's response.

"Not in the least. I don't know what she majored in at Bluegrass- never got around to asking her, but she should have been a lawyer or an FBI agent. She's meticulous as a sonofabitch."

"You think she'd testify?"

"I didn't ask her that either. We talked all afternoon. I wanted to see her again…"

"Raylan, you can't…"

"Jesus, Art. She's young enough to be…well, not my daughter, but she's young. What I was saying was I didn't want to scare her off. If we want her to testify, she's going to need to feel safe, right? I just let her talk today. Told her to hold off on going after his body. Give me some time to go through what she's got written down, and then I'll call her back in to talk about testifying."

"Huh," Art says. "Exercising caution _and_ restraint. Who are you, and what have you done with Raylan Givens? Hey, you missed out on some excitement this afternoon. Your buddy Dewey Crowe surfaced in Louisville."

"Doing what?"

"Something stupid. Something that had him out in the open."

"Imagine that."

"Yeah, got himself id'd by a school bus driver when he walked out in front of a bus. She told the Jefferson County boys that every damned elementary school kid on her bus knows not to walk out in front of it, but not that fool. Anyway, Dewey's in custody. They held him for jaywalking, and then called around to see who else might want him. Might be worth bringing him around to see if he can corroborate any of Ms. Raney's tale."

"Worth a shot," Raylan says. "Although if Dewey doesn't know to stay out from in front of a moving bus, I don't know how he's going to do with dates and figures."

"Well, I know you always enjoying seeing him. Makes us all nostalgic for a simpler time…Anyway, I'll have Louisville bring him over sometime this week. Ought to be entertaining, if nothing else. I'll send Tim out for popcorn."

"I'll go after the popcorn," Raylan offers. "You can give Dewey to Tim."

"You'll go after the popcorn? Like you went after my sandwich two days ago?" Art says and hangs up before Raylan can begin to sputter an excuse.

* * *

><p>He should have killed her right off. He had his shot at it, but she just made Devil so damned happy. Boyd remembers the first time he saw them together- watching them walking up the hill towards his trailer by the church. They weren't any older than 22 then, and they still looked like kids. She didn't look like any kind of girl from Harlan he'd ever seen, but Devil had said she'd grown up all over and that she read a lot of books and didn't listen to country music.<p>

The first time he saw her, Boyd remembers she was wearing a yellow dress and tennis shoes. Her hair was tied up in two knots on the top of her head. She was laughing and bullshitting with Devil. It was hard to make Devil laugh- It made him nervous for people to see him do it- but she was making him forget all about who might be watching.

As Devil walked up the hill with that girl, it was apparent she was teasing him and he was enjoying it. He reached for her and tossed her over his shoulder, carried her up the hill like that, kicking and carrying on. Boyd caught a glimpse of her panties as she kicked around in her dress. He figured the best thing to do would be to kill her.

Trouble was, he couldn't figure out how to do it without Devil knowing it was him. Devil wasn't bright, but this would be too much of a coincidence. Bring your girl up to meet us and she magically disappears. She wasn't just any girl- she was married to him. It wouldn't make sense that she'd sit out his prison sentence and then run off the minute he got out. Even Devil would know better than that.

Devil set her down on the porch outside the trailer and introduced her to Boyd as Edie. Boyd already had her sized up and she sized him up right away, too. She shook his hand, called him Mr. Crowder, and slipped her hand around Devil's waist and into his back pocket. She had no intention of letting go, and she wanted to be sure Boyd saw it.

He thought he had her when she called the next week about the parole officer. He never told her what he did to the guy- he figured the more ominous the better. Let her imagination run wild with it. She got quieter after that. He saw less of her. She stayed back in Lexington when Devil came down to Harlan. Still, for the all temptation Boyd laid out before him, Devil never fooled around on her. He had ample opportunity.

She charmed the bejesus out of Dewey Crowe and Boyd had put some thought towards killing him as well. In truth, Boyd had thought about killing Dewey plenty of times for plenty of other reasons. Eden developed a protective interest in Dewey because she knew he was far from home. Dewey, in turn, became rather protective of her as well because she was then nicest girl who'd ever been nice to him back. With her one and half years of community college, she was the most educated girl that Dewey- or Devil, for that matter- had ever known.

Boyd had called her when Devil got picked up on the violation. She'd just said, "Well, shit" and didn't tell him about the deal she had with Devil if he went back to prison. Boyd didn't tell her that he'd left Devil at the scene of a dope deal, or that Devil was agreeable to his doing it. Devil took the fall because he stood to do less time than Boyd.

He could kick himself now. He thought he was done with her. He'd gone to see Devil at Little Sandy and found out that Edie hadn't. Devil had asked him to go check on her.

"You want me to tell her you're waiting on her?" Boyd had asked.

Devil shook his head. "She ain't coming. She said she wouldn't. Told me when I got out of SCI. Said if I got sent again, we was done."

"Well, that hardly seems fair," Boyd told him, hoping to stir trouble.

Devil had shrugged. "Don't matter. Maybe we ain't the same kind of people anymore anyway. Just check up on her, will you? Make sure she's alright."

Boyd had made the visit with a 9-millimeter stuffed in the back of his pants. She'd opened the door, but not all the way, and leaned against the doorframe.

"You got company, Edie?" He'd asked, hopefully.

"No. You need something, Boyd?"

And he should have popped her right there and been done with it. Ensure that Devil made a fresh start when he got out instead of pining over some tree-hugging hippy bitch who labored under the delusion there might still be something kind and salvageable deep down inside of him. Boyd had no use for that Devil. He knew the only thing that was ever kind about Devil was Edie herself.

He tested the waters. "I went to see your husband."

"He won't be my husband much longer."

"He'll be sorry to hear that, Edie."

"He already knows. Don't try and make like you ain't orchestrating something, Boyd."

Boyd had smiled at her then. He took the 9-mill out of his belt, but didn't point it at her. He laid his hand, with the gun pressed in it, against the doorframe.

"I won't have to use this then, will I?"

Her breathing changed. She was scared, but she didn't back away.

"Do what you want, Boyd," she said. "You always do."

Boyd leans back in his chair and turns his phone over between his fingers. He hears the soft scrape from the wheels of Johnny's chair on the floor of the bar, but doesn't turn to look at his cousin.

"You meditating?" Johnny asks him.

"I'm pondering a past regret," Boyd says. "You remember Eden Raney?"

"Yeah, Devil's wife."

"Yes. I just got a call from our friend in Lexington. Said Edie walked into the courthouse this morning, and walked out with Raylan Givens."

"Well, they found Devil's body. Maybe the Marshalls wanted to question her about it."

Boyd shakes his head. "The County has his body. The only reason she'd go to the Marshalls is if she wanted to cause a stir. I never liked that girl."

"She was alright," Johnny says. "I never understood the thing between her and Devil, but he was a thousand times less annoying when she was around."

"And a thousand times less useful. I just find it a disturbing coincidence that we haven't heard a peep from her in four years and suddenly she's in the Marshall's office talking to Raylan."

"Well, you did shoot her husband, Boyd." Cousin Johnny- always the voice of reason.

Boyd smirks. "So did you. And neither one of those shootings should be anything but County jurisdiction."

"You dumped him in the State Forest."

"State Police then. The only reason she'd be in the Marshall's office is if she has something pertains to the Federales. I'd like to know what that is. I think I'll be paying her a visit."

"You know where she is?"

"Yes. You find just about anything or anyone you need in the library. She was my back-up plan, so to speak, if I ever needed to rope Devil in. You'd never know it from the way he carried on, but he always held a torch for her. Figured I could use that if he ever got out of line."

"Then why didn't you?" Johnny asks.

Boyd says, "Oh, he just caught me on a bad day. Didn't have the energy anymore for his brand of shenanigans. There really is only so much a man can take."


	6. Chapter 6

I do not own Justified or "Fire in the Hole".

**Troublesome Girl- Six**

Charlie Raney is small time, and has never aspired to being anything more. It keeps him off the radar, allows him to do what he wants with little fear of outside interference. He likes his privacy and he likes to keep business within the family.

Trouble is he's running out of family. It's been over a year since his daddy passed. "He died as he lived," Charlie will announce to anyone who asks, "drunk off his ass, and in the company of an underage girl." Why they wouldn't let him give the eulogy at the funeral, he'll never understand.

A.J. - Arlen Junior- got sent up six months before Arlen Senior bought the farm. The State of Kentucky caved to A.J's pleas and his record of nonviolence. They released him on a Saturday to attend his father's funeral on Sunday. No one has seen him since. Charlie guesses Virginia, but it's hard to tell with A.J.

And now there's Devil. It's the girl who calls him at dinnertime- his former sister-in-law, the girl who used to follow Devil up into the hills and cook over a fire while he ran the dope from Charlie's farm back across the state line to whoever was waiting on it at the rest stop on Tate's Creek Road. Charlie never liked to meet his buyers face-to-face. He preferred to send Devil. Devil had a gift for running his mouth, but he also scared the shit out of people. He moved with his arms and his shoulders loose like a boxer, chewed on that bottom lip like he was thinking harder than he really was. When he finally took a swing and leveled you, he gave the impression that he'd been thinking on it for a while. In truth, the boy operated on pure impulse.

The girl calls Charlie up out of nowhere and tells him Devil is dead. He asks if she's sure. A.J.'s on the lam. Maybe Devil just disappeared himself and is playing the same game.

No, she tells him. They have his body in Cumberland.

"You want me to go after him? Or you gonna?" He asks her. "I think I got a bench warrant."

"I can," she tells him. "I was going to have him cremated unless he had other wishes that you know of."

Charlie has to laugh at that. "I suspect the only wishes Devil would've had was that we all tie one on in his honor and shoot out a couple of streetlights. Maybe burn a cross or two."

"I never was sure about that," Edie says. There's hope in her voice. "Was he really one of those, or was it just for show? I heard he came out of Little Sandy with some Alice ink. He might have just needed to align himself while he was in, though."

"Yeah, tell yourself that. Hell, I don't really know. He come out of there mean. Mean and stupid is a lethal enough combination."

She agrees and Charlie feels bad for her then because she sounds genuinely sad. He tells her:

"You still in Lexington, little girl? I got to come up there on some business. Was going to send Al, but I might as well come myself. If I get a good return on my investment up there, I'll give you some money to put towards whatever you want to do with Devil. How's that sound?"

"You don't have to do that, Charlie."

"You saying you don't want to see me- your own brother-in-law?" He doesn't really want to go up there either- not to meet with the dealer, but he always had a soft spot for the girl. She was good with his little brother. "What time is it?"

"Six-ish."

"I can be up there by ten-ish, if I get my ass in gear."

"So more like eleven-ish?" She's smiling. He can feel it through the wires.

"That ain't too late for you, is it, Marion the Librarian? I'll call you when I get in to town."

Charlie hangs up. Now he has to get his ass in gear. First he has to find Al Stone and tell him that Al doesn't have to drive to Lexington. Shit, Charlie hates going to Lexington. Never shared his brother's love of fire arms, and a trip to Lexington always seems to require one. It's not his turf. Other than his dead brother's former wife, he doesn't have many friends there.

* * *

><p>The Hell's Angels are restless. This cocky little fucker in the red plaid shirt who showed up out of nowhere is taking their money hand over fist and laying waste to their usually friendly evening game of darts. He can't miss- bull's eye after bull's eye followed by a smug twitch of his shoulders and another swallow of beer. The alcohol has no effect on his aim, just his attitude. That is getting more intolerable by the drink. The bikers have grown weary of him.<p>

"He ain't that big," one says to the other. "How big can his bladder be? Soon as he goes to take a piss, I'm going to follow him in and stick that fucking dart in his eye."

"You see he's carryin'?" The other says. "I seen it when he pulled the darts out last time. There's a Glock in his belt. You think he can pull?"

"I don't care if he's the long-lost asshole grandson of Wyatt Earp. My old lady's going to tear me a new one for all the money I lost to him."

They nod to one another in agreement, sneer at the drunk kid in the red shirt, and lay in wait for him to go to the men's room. He must have near to a twelve pack in him. It's only a matter of time.

He tosses his last dart- another fucking bull's eye- and goes to the board to pull them out. Biker #1 nudges Biker #2 when the kid raises his arm enough to reveal gun in his belt. When he turns back around, he catches them exchanging glances.

"What? This?" He asks, pushing his shirt aside. Then he tugs on the chain around his neck, pulling a Marshall's badge up from inside his t-shirt. "They're a matched set."

"Son," Bike #1 tells him, "I think you're in the wrong establishment."

"Really? What makes you think that? You wanted for interstate flight?"

"Maybe. I'm just making a suggestion…you've done got your drink on, we made you, and now it's time for you to go."

The kid nods and sets the darts down on the table between the bikers.

"I get it," he says, smiling for the first time. "You were going to roll me and take your money back, but now you're thinking twice because I'm law enforcement. I thought this was just a friendly game of darts."

"You thought wrong. Door's that way."

The kid shrugs and mumbles, "Suit yourself. Excuse me."

He reaches between them and pulls his jacket off the back of a chair. Without so much as a goodbye, he walks away from them towards the front of the bar, cell phone already in hand, punching in the first number on his contact list like this was his plan all along.

She lets it go to voicemail the first time. He looks at the clock above the bar, gives it 30 seconds and calls again. Rachel Brooks answers with a sleepy, "I'm not on call. Call Raylan."

"I need a designated driver," he says.

"You're kidding, right? Do you know what time it is, and are you already wasted? Tim, you're supposed to establish a d.d. before you go out and get drunk. 'Designated before you celebrate'- it's all over the radio."

"Semantics," Tim says, although it's not really the right word.

Rachel sighs and he knows he's got her. "Where are you?"

"I'm not really sure."

"Well, why don't you step outside and take a look? My guess is there's a sign above the door. Did you leave your detective skills on your desk when you punched out?"

"My detecting skills are a little impaired at the moment which is why I'm calling you for back-up…oh, did I mention I might need back-up too?"

"Just go outside and wait by your truck. What's the name of the place?"

Rachel can hear the background noises fade as Tim steps outside. The voices and music are replaced by a soft evening breeze and traffic.

"Larry's," Tim tells her. "It's on the corner of Sutton and Fifth."

"That's a Hell's Angels bar. We've staked it out before. Could you have possibly picked a bar where I would be less welcome?"

"I'd say you'd be more than welcome. The male-to-female ratio is tipped towards the testosterone. Larry's could use some hormone replacement…"

"I doubt it. Last I heard, Larry's hadn't desegregated. Just wait by your truck."

He has no idea how long it takes her to get there. A couple of times he nods off leaning against the bed of his pick-up. When she pulls up next to him, he shakes himself conscious and gives her a grin like he hasn't seen her in years. She nods towards the passenger side. He stows the smile and gets in the car.

Tim takes a roll of bills- what he won off the bikers- out of his shirt pocket.

"What do I owe you for gas?" He asks Rachel.

"Just your promise that you'll never, ever again call me at one o'clock in the morning to pick you up drunk at Larry's."

"Can't I just buy you dinner?" Tim is not so sure he's ready to let go of Larry's. He liked the selection on their jukebox.

"No, you may not. It's a bit past dinner time. Is this what you do every night?"

"Well, obviously not or I'd be calling you every night."

Rachel rolls her eyes. "You need a woman, Tim. Preferably one that's not me."

"Aww, come on. I'm way more evolved than the clientele at Larry's."

"Where am I taking you?"

"Home Sweet Home," he gives up. She's in no mood to flirt. She doesn't really flirt with him anyway. What she usually gives him is more like big-sisterly snark, more like a smack on the back of the head than a smack on the ass. She breaks his heart time and time again and never catches on.

"Or I could sleep on your couch," he suggests. He lives in hope.

"Which is also my mother's couch. How do you think my dear mom would react to a drunk-ass white boy passed out on her sofa when she comes shuffling out of her room in her dressing gown later this morning? You aren't equipped to handle that, Gutterson."

She's calling him Gutterson. He hates when she does that. She isn't teasing anymore. She's brushing him off, stepping back on to the professional safe side of their relationship.

"Fine, take me to my couch then. Undele', undele'…"

They drive for several blocks in silence. Tim is almost overcome with pride at his own restraint. He's thought of a new, stupid thing to say about every stoplight and managed to keep every one of them to himself. He's about to slip up and ask if she's got any Zeppelin when her phone begins to chirp.

Rachel answers, "Good morning to you, Art," and snaps her fingers at Tim, forbidding him to call out his own greeting. Tim mouths a silent, "Good mornin', Art" at the dashboard.

Rachel's end of the conversation is made up mostly of 'yes's and 'okay's. At one point she breaks in and suggests to Art, "You know what- whydon't you let me call Tim?"

The conversation ends. She snaps her phone shut and chucks it at him.

"Ow," he whines. "

"You'll think 'ow' when I'm tanning your hide for the Look of Exhausted Disapproval we're both about to receive. You know we can't put anything past him. He knows you're here. He probably thinks we're sleeping together."

"Would sure take the heat off of Raylan," Tim says.

"That's hardly my concern," Rachel replies. "Do you even want to know what he wanted or have you already forgotten that he called?"

"Who called? Someone called? Hey, this doesn't look like a phone booth."

This time, Rachel's eyes roll clear up to the roof. "Lexington PD found a body, Tim…"

"Not a warm one, I take it."

"Barely. Witnesses report hearing shots fired. Sounds like a drug deal gone bad. Substantial amount of marijuana left at the scene, whoever shot him left it behind."

"Mysterious…sounds like a job for…Lexington P.D. Why the hell are they calling all of us?"

"Because the deceased is a Tennessee-side dealer named Charlie Raney, originally from Harlan, Kentucky."

Tim groans. "So Raylan's redneck beacon went off? Do they call us now when anything goes amiss down in Mayberry? Unless Raney miraculously springs back to life and LPD requires a prisoner transport…"

"I know," Rachel says, "but actually, in this case, I'm pretty impressed with the connection they made and how quickly they made it. Mr. Raney is the brother of that right-hand man of Boyd Crowder's that who turned up dead last week. The blonde in Art's office today…surely you remember the blonde?"

Tim shrugs. He might.

"She's Raney's widow."

"Which Raney? Or both of them? Wasn't Raylan's dad married to a couple of sisters? God…"

"She was married to the first dead Raney. The one LPD found is her former brother-in-law."

"She a suspect?"

"Doesn't appear that way," Rachel says.

"Am I suspect?" Tim asks.

Rachel can't stop herself from smiling. "You need coffee, Tim."

"I need to take a piss," he tells her.


	7. Chapter 7

I do not own Justified, "Fire in the Hole", or the magical world of Raylan and Boyd.

Weird, short, transitional chapter ahead, an attempt to create continuity with the S3 finale.

**Troublesome Girl- Seven**

Art stands in the light of the streetlamp half-listening to the Lexington P.D officer detail the life story of Charlie Raney. The other half of Art's brain is reading through the list of contacts on Raney's cell phone.

"Alive, he would've been quite a catch," the officer says. "I guess his being dead makes him all-the-way caught. He's got a little brother who's wanted for interstate flight. We called you because we initially thought this was him. Didn't recognize him with his face blown off like that. We saw the last name on the driver's license and called you. Turns out, it's the wrong one. There's an Arlen Raney Junior who wandered off the map six months ago, and a Devlin who just popped up in a homicide investigation, right?"

"He is the homicide investigation," Art tells him. "He's not popping up much of anywhere."

"Oh." The officer nods and continues. "Anyway, I'm sort of surprised to see Charlie up here in any condition. He mostly sticks to the Tennessee side and has flunkies run his dope for him up here. He's got a couple of open bench warrants, but he hardly ever shows his face…"

"Well, shit," Art interupts him. He snaps Raney's cell phone closed and digs his own out of his pocket. The LPD officer takes a step back, confused.

Art makes his call to Rachel, and then dials Raylan.

"Rise and shine," he says. "You said you wanted to talk to the little Raney girl again? How about at breakfast?" Yeah, I'm downtown at a homicide scene. The victim is a Charlie Raney, Devil's brother. I've been going through his most recent phone calls, and it looks to be that about three hours before his unfortunate passing, he was on the phone with Eden Raney. Go pick her up."

When Art ends the call, the LPD officer says to him, "so, we're going to be working together on this after all."

Art nods, acknowledging that the officer spoke without agreeing to anything. He isn't ready to share the Raney girl. Not yet.

A swath of light drags across Art, the deputy, and Charlie's body. Rachel cuts her headlights and gets out of her car and then leans back in to say something to Tim- who then stays in the car.

Art frowns and pretends to turn his attention back to his phone. It startles him by cooperating with his game and ringing, saving him from both the LPD officer and from having to deal with Tim.

The ID comes up as Harlan Police Department. That can't be good, Art thinks, if they're calling him first instead of trying to sneak Raylan out from under his thumb. They only follow chain of command down there when disaster is imminent.

* * *

><p>Raylan decides against calling Eden in advance of his arrival. He'll know a lot just by whether or not she's awake when he gets there.<p>

She's not. It takes a few minutes to rouse her by pounding on the door. When she finally answers, she opens it a crack, says, "Marshall?", and then asks for a moment to get dressed before she lets him in. She returns in jeans and a sweatshirt and with her hair tied back.

"Is there anyone else there with you?" He asks.

She shakes her head.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm going to need you to come with me to the Marshall's office, Ms. Harper."

Eden frowns. He was calling her by her first name by the time he dropped her off yesterday evening. She asks him again what's wrong.

"When was the last time you saw your brother-in-law Charlie?"

"Last time I _saw_ him? Jesus, I don't even know…I talked to him last night right after you dropped me off. I told him about Devil. He said he was coming up to…well, he was going to stop by and see me."

"Did he?" Raylan asks. He ushers Eden out the door and towards the porch. Since she made no attempt to hide her call to Charlie, he unclips his holster and keeps his ears perked up for sounds of an attacker lurking near the house.

"No, he never showed, but…"

"But what?"

"He's a pot head. He's not the most reliable guy. He said he was going to give me some money to put towards Devil's whatever. I never expected to see that either. What's wrong? He get picked up?"

Raylan herds her around to the passenger side of the Town Car. This time, he opens the door for her. He waits until he's in on his side with the engine running to tell her:

"LPD found Charlie's body a few hours ago. My supervisor was going through his phone and found your name and number."

"Oh, God…did they call his wife? Her name's Hattie. I think they're still together. Wait- are you here because you think I did something?"

"No, I don't," Raylan says. "This is just a precaution. Your in-laws seem to be thinning out all around you, one of them while on his way to see you. Welcome to protective custody."

"Should I call in to work?"

"Probably."

Eden sighs and begins to dig through her purse for her phone. Her purse is some Mexican-looking woven thing. It might have llamas on it, or jaguars. It isn't bedazzled with twenty separate compartments like the ones the college girls or even Lindsay at the bar haul around.

Eden finds her phone, dials, and talks to a voicemail box. She tells it she needs another day to settle her ex's affairs. When she ends the call, she looks at Raylan and shrugs as if she's asking for his approval.

He asks her, "Where's work?"

"Public library."

"Is that what you went to college for then?" Raylan asks, thinking about the notes in her composition book.

She tells him, "Historical records management. Archives, photograph restoration. Glorified file clerk."

"Whatever would possess you?"

She laughs like she gets this question a lot. "Well, what I really always wanted to be was a librarian. You need a Masters degree to do that, though, and I figured I'd never get to go to school long enough."

"My God," Raylan says. "I can't imagine…what makes a little girl dream of being a librarian when she grows up."

"Well, if that little girl is being raised by a flakey and unreliable parent and never spends more than a year in a single school district…if she's going to school at all and not being homeschooled by her surrogate commune mothers…the library is really the only thing that remains stable from town to town. If I had to leave a book behind when we moved, I could always pick it up again in the next place. I liked the system- the books are always shelved the shame. Hell, all libraries smell the same. Growing up, they were like my security blanket."

"And then there's the excitement and glamour of the librarian lifestyle."

"You'd be surprised. You know there's a whole genre of porn about hot librarians? Devil used to tell me I could fall back on that if being an actual library thing didn't work out for me."

Raylan smirks. "I'd guess Devil knew a lot more about one of those than the other."

He regrets making the joke when her voice trails off as she replies, "yeah, he was content to let me be the reader…"

He's racking his mind for something sensitive to say when his phone begins to hum. It's Art.

"What's your take on the Raney girl?" He asks Raylan. There is no greeting.

"Clean,"Raylan says. "She's with me now. I'm on my way back to the office…"

"Change of plans. Your friend Quarles just wiggled his way through a road block in Harlan. State police have a warrant for Crowder, and they want us to assist. Drop the Ms. Raney with LPD. They might have some questions for her. Tell her not to answer any. We'll meet you in Cumberland."

"Shit," Raylan says when Art hangs up. As much as he wants to go after Quarles, he isn't excited about leaving Eden in the hands of LPD.

"What's wrong?" She asks him.

"There's a situation that I need to be at. I'm going to have to take you to the police station. They want to question you about your brother-in-law. I'm going to tell them to cut you loose- you're a witness in a Marshall's investigation. Just go about your business. More than likely, they'll have someone trail you. Go to work, go home, don't answer your door for anyone. I'll get in touch when this other thing gets settled."

Eden nods. She lays her head against the window and winces as her guts begin to churn all to hell. She's familiar with the feeling- the same old feeling, like when Devil would tell her to get out of Johnny Crowder's bar: "Go on home now, baby."

Go on home meant you don't want to be here. One time she didn't listen, and then she learned. Ever since then, she's gone on home when someone told her to do it, but she's never been able to stop the feeling from welling up inside her. First her stomach gets sick, and then it passes, and her whole body feels dead. There is no fear, no emotion of any kind. Automatic pilot. Just don't think until he comes back.

She's somewhat aware that she gives Raylan a strange look when he opens the car door for her at the Lexington Police Station. He gives her a curious glance back and she forces a little smile.

"There's nothing to worry about," he says. "I'll tell them to let you go. They'll have to question you at the Marshall's office and not until we get back. Until then…"

"…I go home, go to work. I got it." Until then, do nothing. Let it all come down. Let the shot callers call the shots, and never forget that you aren't one of them.


	8. Chapter 8

I own it not.

**Troublesome Girl- Eight**

Six years ago, she saw her husband kill a man. She had thought it was him who was dead, and- until he saw him fire at the helpless body on the floor- she couldn't have imagined that there could be anything worse.

She had gone out drinking with her friend Lacey. Lacey- who fared worse than her in the end because she ended up working for Bo Crowder and then out at Audrey's. Lacey- who didn't listen when Devil told them both they could get stoned all they wanted but they'd better stay away from the meth.

Eden rarely did what anyone told her, and Devil knew that. He didn't try to tell her what to do very often. Eden, therefore, knew that when he did he had a reason. When he told her, "you don't touch that shit," she listened. Lacey seemed to take it as a dare.

That night, though, they were just drinking. Eden'd smoked a little weed, too, trying to take the edge off of being pissed at Devil for disappearing on her on a Saturday night. She was starting to get tired of him not having a job that kept hours like a normal person. They were starting to fight about it.

After he took off, she called Lacey to bitch, and Lacey figured the best thing to do was to get dolled up and hit the bars. Eden knew Lacey well enough to know that this was pretty much her solution to any conundrum. That's why she was the friend to call in these situations.

So, Eden smoked a joint, ironed out her hair, put on the eyeliner, and hit the main street of Cumberland with Lacey. They saved Johnny Crowder's place for last. They were feeling no pain by the time they got there. Problem was what Eden was feeling was less pissed off and jilted from the alcohol and more cuddly and turned-on from the pot. When she walked into the bar and saw that son of a bitch sitting playing cards with his back to her, the plan to rub his nose in what he was missing flew right out of her head.

She did manage to walk right by him, guided by Lacey, to the bar. Johnny Crowder- who knew them both well enough- rolled his eyes.

"Can I get you ladies a drink?" He asked. "Edie, can I get you some Visine?"

"Can I drink that?"

"From the looks of you, maybe consider an I.V. Maybe ask your old man. He's an expert in that area, I hear."

Johnny nodded past Edie's shoulder and she wheeled around on her bar stool to face the Devil.

He came at her like someone lit a fire underneath him, and then- more or less- blew on past. He pushed between her knees and then leaned over her to pluck a straw off the bar. He didn't look at her when he said:

"Go on home, baby."

"Do I know you?" She asked, grinning, putting her hand on his hip.

His nostrils flared. He set his jaw, took a deep breath, and then said, "Girl, I said go on home."

"Why don't you take me home?"

"What don't you do what you're told?"

She leaned in closer and lowered her voice, "Then why don't you just take me outside?"

"Goddamnit, Edie…"

She smiled and sat back against the bar, putting herself in his line of vision. He had to look at her now, and she-in turn- could get a read on his face. He was serious, and it wasn't just his _don't do this in front of them_ serious. His eyes kept darting around, like he was expecting something to happen.

"I ain't leaving," she said, more serious, just to test him. "I'm too stoned to drive."

"On whose shit…" He started, and then shook his head, not wanting to get derailed. "Then walk your pretty ass down the block to the next bar. Take your little friend with you. Just get out."

She hooked her left thumb over the top of his jeans, slid her right arm over his shoulder. She smiled at him. God, she was loaded. She wanted to kiss him, feel her lips move against his while she whispered all kinds of dirty intentions to him.

Devil was in no mood. "You can walk, can't you?"

"Walk with me."

"Eden." He was done fucking around. "I'm going to drag you over to that door by the hair and toss you out. Get the fuck on out of here."

She didn't appreciate to be told to get the fuck anywhere. She pushed him away from her and hopped down from the bar stool.

"Go fuck yourself, Devil, 'cause you won't be seeing me the rest of the evening."

"Thank you," he said.

She gave him the finger without looking back. Lacey joined her at the door.

"Jesus, I can't believe you push him like that," she said.

Outside the bar, it took a moment for Edie's eyes to adjust to the glow of the streetlight. It took just as long for her to formulate a reply and process it into spoken words.

"He's an asshole," was the best she could do.

She and Lacey took a minute in the parking lot to straighten themselves out and ponder their options. A couple of pick-ups squealed to a near-stop on the street and veered into the lot. Eden and Lacey had to scurry to avoid being run over. One of the drivers whistled at them. An e-brake was jerked back. Another passenger in the first truck called out and made them an offer. His companions jeered, but none of them made a move towards the girls once they got out of their trucks. They headed straight to the door of Johnny's.

"Whatever," Lacey said to Eden and Eden said it back. They were crossing the street in the direction of the next bar when the sound of gunfire rattled from the bar behind them like someone shaking a jar full of marbles.

She couldn't count the number of shots fired. Suddenly, she was stone-sober and sure that- from all the shooting- there was no way there couldn't have been a bullet for Devil. She made a stupid and terrified run for the bar. Lacey caught her by the arm and yanked her back.

"Jesus, Edie. They saw us leaving. They'll cap us too, if they know we're still around."

"He's in there."

"Around back. Through the alley, but we got to get out of sight."

They wheeled into the alley, against the stream of people trying to get out, and through the back door to the store room. Eden squeezed Lacey's hand.

"Just stay here. I'll go look. I just got to see that's he's alright. If he is, then we'd better get the hell on out of here."

Lacey nodded. She had no inclination to see.

Eden crept through the storeroom to the door leading out into the bar. They were standing with their backs to her- Devil, Boyd, Johnny, and the flakey one with the _Hiel Hitler_ tattooed around his neck. They were all holding the guns that she had become so used to seeing stuffed in the backs of their jeans that she had forgotten what they used them for. Two of the truck passengers had made it as far as the door. They held their pistols loose, hanging from their thumbs, away from their bodies.

The other two passengers from the trucks were on the floor. One of them was leaking blood and not making a sound. The second moved and let out a quiet groan. Devil lowered his arm and fired twice. The man on the floor jerked and was still.

Eden's whole body went cold and empty. She blinked hard, thinking if she could just replay the moment it might happen again but differently.

"Gentlemen," Boyd said to the two strangers still standing. "You can take your friends now or you can find them tomorrow morning on the park road about a mile up from the ranger's station. Watch for the birds. Your choice, but I'll need you to leave the fire power. Devil…"

Devil stuffed his own nine millimeter- the one he'd taught her to shoot copperheads with- in the back of his jeans and stepped over the bodies towards the other two men. He took their guns, and when he turned back towards Boyd, Edie ducked into the shadows. She could still see him, and she was certain he looked right at her for a second. If he did, he didn't react. Just dropped the clips from the stranger's guns and got back in position next to Boyd.

It seemed to take forever for the truck driver's to remove their comrade's bodies from the bar. Edie stayed frozen in her hiding spot, her knees getting weaker and weaker, until they were gone.

"You got a mop?" Devil asked Johnny Crowder and Johnny jerked his head towards the bar. When Devil stepped out of sight, Edie darted to the back door again to find Lacey waiting just outside in the alley.

"What happened? What'd you see?"

"Nothing," Edie said. The words would become like a mantra, recited over again in the voice of a wind-up doll: "I didn't see nothing."

* * *

><p>She sent Lacey home and tried to stay awake on the couch. At some point, the adrenaline cut off and she passed out. When he finally came in, she jerked awake but didn't say a word.<p>

He left the lights off, kicked off his boots, and wiggled out of his leather vest. He pulled his shirt up over his head rather than unbuttoning it, a habit in men that always annoyed the shit out of her. He started to unbuckle his belt and finally noticed her.

"Whatchya doing, baby?"

She shook her head.

"Fuck, what time is it?" He asked, craning his neck to see the clock on the stove. "Holy shit. When'd you get back? I figured it'd take you a while. No way you could walk here in a straight line, girl."

When she still didn't say anything, he came towards her and stood over her with his arms crossed over his chest.

"What? You still pissed off? Come on, baby. Come on, let's go to bed. I'll make that shit up to you."

She twitched when he reached for her. Right away he knew why, and he took a step back. He rubbed his hand over his head and looked around for something to chew on.

"Shit, Edie…what'd you see?"

"I heard shots, so we came back. I thought something happened to you."

"When does anything ever happen to me? What'd you see?"

"You done that kind of shit before?"

"You want an answer to that?" He snapped. He took a deep breath and lowered his voice. "Baby, what'd you…shit, I guess I know what you saw. And that's the last time…"

"…the last time you'll do it?"

He shook his head. "The last time you're going to ask me about it. We ain't talking about it no more, and now- if you was thinking about it- don't you dare leave. If you leave and he thinks you know anything, Boyd'll kill you."

"Or make you kill me."

"Something like that."

She looked up at him. "And you'd do that?"

"Christ, baby, just let's go to bed." It was almost a whine.

She said, "I'll take that as a 'yes'. I'm good here. I'll just sleep here."

"What, you going to sleep on that couch forever?"

When she didn't answer him, he mumbled, "shit" under his breath, went to the bedroom and returned dragging the blanket and the sheet behind him. He tossed the blanket at her, and then wrapped the sheet around himself and sat down opposite her in the chair.

"Go to sleep," she said.

"I am."

"Somewhere else. Are you watching me? Making sure I don't take off?"

"No." Offended by that. "I told you- I wanted to sleep with you. Seems like this is as close as I'm going to get."

She rolled over and turned her back to him. She couldn't sleep, though. She lay awake and thought about where she could run, and then of how far she'd get before one of them found her. After a while, Devil got up from his chair. Instead of going to the bedroom, he sat down on the floor with his back against the couch. Edie squirmed in further so that he wasn't touching her. He sighed, irritated, and let his head drop back.

"Christ," he said to the ceiling.

When she woke up, it was mid-afternoon. Her whole body hurt from sleeping curled up so tight on the sofa. Devil was stretched out on the floor next to her. He was still wearing his jeans and is snoring softly.

She sat up and looked at him. He raised one eyebrow to indicate he was aware, but didn't open either eye.

"You want coffee?" She asked him out of habit.

"Want to crawl back in bed. Jesus, don't you hurt?"

She didn't answer. She stepped over him, and once she was in in the kitchen, he moved on to the couch. She put the coffee pot in the sink and rubbed the eyeliner out from under her eyes while she waited for it to fill. She put the coffee on and then stood in the doorway to the kitchen watching him. He stretched one arm out and beckoned her with his fingers.

"Come on," he said.

She frowned at him and tried to imagine how long she can keep this up. Eventually, one of them would lose it. He'd explode and do something terrible or she'd give in. She pushed her hair back from her face and looked away from him. Then she began to cry.

Devil cursed and got up from the couch. She started backing away even though there was no way out of the kitchen. Instead of making any attempt to touch her, he hovered in the doorway, hanging against the top of the doorframe. He nearly filled the space. He looked threatening, but didn't mean it that way. His attention was on the coffee pot. He just had a habit of hanging in the doorway like a high school kid trying to show off how tall he is.

When the coffee was ready, he poured it. He put sugar in hers, handed it to her, and then kissed the top of her head before returning to the other room.

Eden set her coffee down and came out of the kitchen.

"I'm going to take a shower," she said.

"That an invitation?"

"No. I'm just telling you where I'm going so's you don't get paranoid about it."

"Who's paranoid?" He said, and then said "fuck" to himself when she didn't answer.

She had drunk bruises, Eden noticed, when she got her clothes off. There was a mysterious one on her thigh and another on her arm. She must've walked into something, maybe bumped against the side of a truck. Any other next-day, she'd have thought it was funny.

She got in the shower, surprised and relieved when Devil failed to join her. When she finished, she pull on one of his t-shirts. When they were kids and he'd go off into the hills to run pot for his brother, she'd wear his shirts around the house because the smell of him made her feel safe.

She took it off again, but she couldn't shake the smell of his skin even when she slept.


	9. Chapter 9

I do not own Justified.

Did I mention there would be alcohol and drug use, adult langauge, and sexual innuendo?

**Troublesome Girl- Nine**

They coexisted in the same space for weeks. For his part, Devil stomped around a lot and slammed every door he passed though. Eden would shrink away whenever he tried to touch her and he gave up. It wasn't even a conscious reaction. In truth, she missed it. She wanted so bad to be held, just not by him.

She contemplated this- finding someone else to hold her. She couldn't think of anyone who she was attracted to more than him, and she couldn't think of any way he wouldn't find out.

The point got driven home one night when she was out with Lacey. They'd chosen a different bar in the next town down the road from Cumberland. Lacey was dancing with some transient road construction worker, and Eden was starting to get the feeling she was going to need to find another ride home. She'd just asked the bartender for the phonebook. Devil would still come and get her, she figured, or someone at Johnny's would. She flipped through the phonebook looking for the number.

"Fascinating reading?"

She looked up. A man leaned on the bar next to her. She didn't like him right off. He was going to start shit with her; she could feel it.

"One of my favorites," she said and went back to thumbing through the pages.

"You come here to read the phonebook?"

Eden stopped, sighed, and told him, "No, I came to drink. Mission accomplished. Now, I'm calling my husband."

The stranger smirked. "_Now _you're calling your husband? Some husband. He know you're out on your own getting lit?"

"I wasn't alone when I came. And, yes, he's aware."

"Aware like he said 'go forth and conquer' or aware like you walked out and he watched you go?"

Eden found the number. She holds her finger on the spot and turns back to ask the bartender for the phone.

"Where you headed?" The stranger asked. "I'll give you a ride."

"No thanks. I'm covered."

"Well, how about I buy you a drink while you wait?"

She sighed again. "Seriously, buddy, do you not get when you're being blown off?"

He smiled and leaned back against the bar. His jacket fell open to expose a badge and a gun in a shoulder holster. She couldn't make out which agency he belonged to, but the badge looked real enough.

"Eden Raney." He said her name just make his intentions clear. "Your not-so-attentive husband is Devlin Raney. Goes by Devil. Known to associate with Boyd Crowder, and by associate I mean 'violate the terms of his parole'. Please, let me give you a ride back to Cumberland."

Eden shut the phonebook. She looked around for Lacey. When she caught her eye, though, Lacey's eyes just widened and she mouthed, "Go for it" to Eden. Eden shook her head and tried to convey fear, but Lacey was already back staring up at her dance partner.

The agent took her by the arm and led her to the door. When Eden took one more desperate look back at Lacey, he gave her a little shove.

"So…you and the Devil…side by side…" he began. "Why don't you tell me about Devil?"

"What are you? Sheriff? Marshalls?"

"ATF," he said. "You old man likes his guns, I understand."

"What's my motivation?"

"Your what?" He asked, then smirked. "What's your motivation to talk to me, Mrs. Raney? I could tell you that you'd be doing the right thing, but I have yet to find anyone down in this neck of the woods that cares about that. How about everyone in that bar just saw us leave together, but you're the only one who saw my badge? I'd be happy to just let everyone around here believe- including your old man- that we went for one wild ride together. How do you think Mr. Raney would react to that? He the kind to kick you around?"

"No, he ain't. He'd clean your clock though."

"Really? He'd clean clock on a federal agent? Where do you think that would land him?"

Eden said nothing.

"Time's a-wasting, honey," the agent said. He brought her to the passenger side of a dark Impala and opened the door. She sat down. When he got in on the driver's side and said, "hmmm?" to her, Eden shook her head.

"I don't know anything. He has a gun, and so does everyone else in the county. I don't know anything about anything else."

"Good start," he replied. "Your husband's a felon. He's not supposed to have a gun."

"Maybe it's mine."

"Alright, Mrs. Raney. Let's cut the crap. It's going to go like this: you're going to tell me what your husband does for Boyd Crowder in vivid, excruciating detail or I'm going to park us in the lot next to Johnny Crowder's bar and waltz inside and carry on to anyone who will listen about how I just got the most amazing blow job from this pretty little blonde named Eden. Choice is yours."

Eden's shoulders sank.

"I can't help you," she said. "Devil and I are split up. We've been on the rocks for a while. I have no idea what he does when he ain't around, and he ain't been around much lately."

By now, they were well outside of town, maybe three miles from Cumberland. The agent pulled the car over to the side of the road. Outside of the glow of the headlights it was pitch dark. The hills rose up at a steep angle on either side of the narrow shoulder. If his plan was to let her out and then shoot her, there was nowhere to run. She'd never make it up the grade in time.

"Go on now," the agent said. "Get out."

"You going to kill me?"

He snorted. "No, unless you'd like me to. I'm damned sure going to beat you into town. The walk ought to give you time to figure out how you're going to wiggle your way around the story I'm going to give 'em at Johnny's."

Eden gets out of the Impala and the ATF agent speeds away. She turns to avoid the spray of gravel. He's in a hell of a hurry. This is going to be fun for him. Seeing no other choice, Eden starts walking towards Cumberland.

She shrinks away from oncoming headlights. When the car pulls over and turns back for her, she's scared. When the driver starts to honk the horn, she stops. Her arms drop limp at her sides. She waits to get run over.

Instead, the car pulls up beside her and the passenger window comes down.

"Jesus, Edie, is that you?"

She recognizes the voice and the Everglades accent. She turns and looks through the window of the blue Caddy.

The driver asks again, "Edie, right? Devil's girl? It's me- Dewey…"

"Dewey Crowe," she says. She doesn't wait for an invitation. She yanks the door open and jumps in to the Cadillac. "Dewey, is Devil and them at Johnny's?"

"Yeah, I just left there. I was supposed to be…well, I was on an errand…what the hell are you doing walking around out here."

"Dewey, take me to Johnny's. Come on. There's an ATF agent on his way. He's going to try to start shit with them and then haul them in."

* * *

><p>It was Johnny Crowder's seventeen different kinds of bourbon that was the agent's downfall. He had to stop at the bar and have himself a shot before making his way over to the table where Boyd sat with Devil playing cards.<p>

Eden walked in- right past the agent- Dewey on her heels, and sat herself down in Devil's lap.

Devil furrowed his brow and said, "Not that I'm complaining, but…"

Eden leaned across the table towards Boyd. "The gentleman come in right before us is an ATF agent. He hauled me out of the bar in Cumberland and made me go for a ride with him. He didn't touch me or nothing, but it's his intention to cause a stir and give himself cause to arrest y'all."

Boyd's grin spread slowly, like something inside his head was turning a crank.

"And Dewey?" He asked.

"Dewey picked me up along the roadside where that asshole dumped me out. Dewey's my fuckin' hero."

For the first time in a month, Devil's arm slid around her shoulders and she let him leave it there.

"I thought I was your fuckin' hero," he said.

Boyd told him, "Maybe she ought to be yours. Take her home, Devil."

Devil began to protest. "Hell, no, Boyd. You let me see to him. It's my turn to take him for a little ride…"

"Devil, take your wife and go home. I can only imagine how you must feel about this, but that's exactly why it's me and Johnny should handle it. Have faith, son. Me and Johnny'll do right by her."

Eden looked across the table at Boyd. He gave her a faint smile and it made her feel sick. She couldn't tell- just from that one look- if he intended to get rid of the ATF agent or sell Devil out. She stood up and tugged at Devil's shirt.

"Come on, baby," she whispered.

Boyd nodded in approval. When Devil stood and followed Eden towards the door, Boyd leaned back in his chair and shouted, "Johnny, get that gentleman at the bar a drink on me. I hear tell he's a fantastic storyteller and I'd like to hear one of his stories. Please, sir, won't you join us?"

* * *

><p>She sat on the couch and he paced. He picked up his keys. When he caught her looking at him, he clicked his tongue, and threw them at the opposite wall. They left a mark.<p>

He sat down hard, bounced against the back of the couch and made her bounce too. Then he sat still for a very long minute. Without looking at her, he said:

"You know what they tell me, Edie? What everyone's been telling me since the day I met you? 'Devil, you got to knock that girl up, or she's going to leave you. Ain't nothing you got that's going to keep her down on the farm. She starts having babies, that's the only way you're going to keep her'."

She waited to see where he was going with this. He waited for her reply. She said it to test him. Maybe he'd beat her and give her a good reason to leave:

"When we were seniors, or I was a senior, and you went to JDC up in Jackson…I was pregnant then. Went to Knoxville."

"I figured. I mean, I didn't have the time pin-pointed or nothing, but I figured at some point…I mean, we ain't never been that careful. You were never going to tell me, huh?"

"I just told you now."

"About something that happened when we was seventeen. Shit, Edie…I don't get you. I mean, I get some things. I get it when you're making jokes and you always could explain books to me, but I don't get stuff like that. You didn't let yourself have a baby, but you didn't leave then either. You could've been rid of all of us with that ATF asshole, but you didn't give us up. Yet, here you sit, not touching me, barely talking to me except to tell me that you had an abortion five years ago and didn't ask me what I thought about it."

She sighed. "What do you think about it, Devil?"

"We'd have a four-year old, and I'd have spent half its life in prison. Makes me think you were right doing what you did."

She pressed her lips together hard, then. She didn't want to cry. She didn't have any choice, she figured, but to slide over a few inches and lay her head on his shoulder. He had been bouncing his knee, tapping his foot on the coffee table. He stopped when he rested her head on his shoulder.

He knitted his fingers together and stared at them.

"Are we done, Edie? I know I told you that you couldn't leave or Boyd'd kill you, but I'll find a way…if you really want to go, I'll handle Boyd. I'll tell him I done you in and we'll make you disappear. If that's really what you want, I'll get you out of here…"

He sniffed. When she looked up at him, he jumped up and away from her. He picked up the keys again. He told her to think about it. He picked up his jacket and bolted for the door.

He before he left he stopped. He wiped his eyes before he looked at her. Then he glared. Just like Devil- to make a big show when he was feeling so small.

"I don't think it's fair, though, Edie," he said. "You said you'd stay if I told you everything about the jobs Boyd and me did. I told you. I did that, and all this time you ain't been telling me shit. Maybe I ought to be more demanding, quit selling myself short."

Also just like Devil, she thought: to have the right idea, but to take it in the completely wrong direction.


	10. Chapter 10

I do not own Justiifed, "Fire in the Hole" or the Lexington Public Library.

This one picks up where the S3 finale left off.

**Troublesome Girl- Ten**

"Alright, Raylan, you did it. We all know whose side you're on. We all think you're tough as nails. Go home now."

Art crosses his arms across his chest, the sign that he isn't going to be moved this time. He told Raylan to go home once already- that he didn't have to walk his own daddy through the office to the holding cell in front of God and everyone. Of course, Raylan had to do that. Then, he had to stand in the doorway to holding and listen to Boyd Crowder spout off his sly bullshit. Now, he stands next to Art as Boyd walks free- slithering in to Ava's waiting arms, spinning her around, making her squeal.

Art is enraged watching it all. He'll insist once again that Raylan go home, but go home to what?

"I think I've seen enough, Art," Raylan beats him to the punch. "Maybe I'll take you up on that day off."

"Check in with your witness before you go off the grid. LPD cut her loose. She's our angle now. Set up a time when she can come in. Preferrably, right away in the morning if you think you'll be feeling up to it tomorrow."

"I'll be fine by tomorrow," Raylan tells him. His voice is hollow. He nods to Art, gets his keys and jacket from his desk, and heads towards the elevator.

* * *

><p>She's standing behind the check-out desk in the center of the Lexington Public Library. He counts three security cameras en route from the front entrance. He ducks out of the line of sight of the third and into the stacks, watches her for a minute or two, and then picks the first book he sees in front of him. He glances at the cover and can't hope to suppress a smile.<p>

He steps up to the check-out desk, slides the copy of Paradise Lost at her, and says, "I'm looking for a book…about the Devil and his misadventures and subsequent banishment to the underworld…I got the right one?"

Her head snaps up when she hears his voice. Boyd grins.

"It must be the right one," he says. "Hello, Edie."

"Boyd," she says.

"I don't believe I actually have a library card here in Lexington. Perhaps you could help me with that."

"You have one in Harlan? That one'll work anywhere in the state." It comes out as a thin whisper.

"Hmmm," Boyd says. "I don't think I do. I'm not on real good terms with the librarian in Harlan. When I was twelve I stole a copy of Catcher in the Rye because I heard it had all kinds of dirty words in it. That turned out to be kind of let-down. Still, I never returned the book and the old bat that runs the place has never found it in her heart to forgive me. Perhaps I could convince you to take a ride down to Harlan with me and put in a good word."

"I'm working, Boyd." She sounds braver now. The door has opened and shut behind him and she can see Raylan's tall frame and the silhouette of his hat coming in from the sunshine.

Raylan walks up to the counter and leans next to Boyd. He squints.

"You know, I was never much of a reader," he says. "Libraries give me the creeps, quite honestly. Too quiet. They smell funny. I hear they make pornos about hot librarians, but I never did see any of those. You ever see any skin flicks about hot librarians, Boyd?"

"Why, Raylan Givens, you have the strangest way of greeting man."

"You know what I find strange?" Raylan asks him. "I find it strange that there's lovely library right in Harlan. Has books in it and everything, and yet here you are at the library in Lexington. Now, I remember the librarian back in Harlan- she was as unpleasant a woman as ever lived, and I hear she runs the place yet. Still, I'd have thought you'd have been in more of a hurry to leave Lexington. Can't imagine why you'd want to dawdle just to get your book stamped by some more attractive breed of librarian. I get the feeling that's not what drew you here."

"Purely impulse, Raylan. I happened to be in town, as you already know. I wanted a book. Edie and I go way back. I knew if anyone could help me find it, it would be her."

Raylan looks at Eden and waves his hand. "Eden, can you get Boyd checked out please? He's in a hurry. He can't stay and chat."

Eden nods. Boyd tells her he must have left his library card at home, and she tells him she can look him up on the computer. When his name comes up, she smirks. Her eyes dart to Raylan and then back to Boyd.

"You have an overdue book."

"That copy of Catcher in the Rye still dogging me?" Boyd asks.

Eden shakes her head. "You ordered a copy of the King James Bible from the interlibrary loan system. Had it sent to you at the State Prison. You never returned it. Did you happen to take it with you when you were released?"

"I don't remember you walking out with a bible, Boyd," Raylan says. "I was there."

Eden shrugs. "Sorry, Boyd. You can either produce the bible or pay up for it. I can't check out another book to you."

"Well, if I find it, I'll be sure to bring it right back to you," Boyd says. "Put it safely in your hands."

"You can just drop it off in Harlan," she tells him. "You'll have to pay the postage."

"Maybe it's in your truck," Raylan suggests. "Let's go take a look. Ms. Harper, I'll be right back. Boyd, tell Ms. Harper goodbye."

Boyd rolls his eyes and gives Eden a wiggley-fingered wave.

"Goodbye, Mrs. Raney," he says and walks out with Raylan.

* * *

><p>"Well, shit," she says to Raylan when he returns. "That was fast."<p>

Raylan takes his hat off and says, "How quickly Boyd found you? Or how quickly and efficiently I removed him? Or how quickly I found a reason to vacate a library?"

"All three. You really hate libraries that much?"

"I'm afraid Boyd is the bookworm of the two of us."

She smiles and shakes her head.

"How'd he even know?"

"My guess is he's never quit watching you. When was the last time you saw Devil? You see him again after he got out of Little Sandy?"

She shakes her head again, but this time she ducks her eyes.

"No. I mean, I saw him from a distance a couple of times in Harlan. Every time I did, I'd run on down to the courthouse and get those papers drawn up again. And every time I did that, he'd disappear up into the hills and under Boyd's wing."

Raylan says, "And that's it? You never went up there, tried to talk to him? He never came looking for you? No nostalgia hook-ups?"

She sighs and Raylan can't help but grin. He reaches over the counter and picks up the little sign that says "Back in Five Minutes". He sets it in front of Eden and nods towards the door to the children's room.

The room is enclosed with knee-to-ceiling glass windows allowing adults to see but not hear the children. At the moment, there are no children within. Raylan follows Eden to the door and reaches to open it for her before she can do it herself.

The children's room also has a peculiar smell, although a different one from the rest of the library. The odor of all that paper is mixed with that of urine and candy.

"He was that good, huh?" Raylan says. "Worth hitting it one more time before you got those papers signed?"

"It wasn't him," she says. She rolls her eyes, looks around for somewhere to sit. All the chairs are tiny, in different primary plastic colors. She lets herself drop down in a beanbag that looks like a ladybug. Raylan sits on a child-sized table in front of her.

"I was seeing someone else," she explains. "They beat the shit out of him. I went up there to tell Devil that he needed to get clear that I was no longer any of his business."

"And how did that go?"

"About how you'd expect. The guy I was seeing…the one they cleaned clock on…he was…sort of black."

Raylan raises his eyebrows and laughs. "Sort of black?"

"He wasn't white. Obviously, that went down real well with Devil and the rest of those assholes. Anyway, I went out to the church and waltzed right up to the door. A couple of 'em met me there and told me I couldn't go inside. I told them to tell Devil to get his ass outside then. If he wanted my attention so bad, now he had it."

"What happened?"

Eden frowns. She looks down at her feet and shakes her head as if confused.

"He came out. Put a gun to my head and told me to get back in my car and drive myself back to my…well, he called this guy I was seeing a couple of awful names. Told me I ought to be ashamed, that he was ashamed of me and that if I ever showed my face around there again…shit…"

Her voice falters. She bites her bottom lip and then hides her face in her hands. Raylan slides down from his perch on the table and sits next to her on the floor.

"What?" He asks.

"He told me if I ever showed my face there again, he'd stand back and let every one of his buddies there take a turn with me to remind me what white men were like." She looks up at Raylan, tears spilling down her cheeks. "That wasn't my husband, Marshall. Where did that even come from?"

"I don't know," Raylan says. "Maybe he was putting on a show for the rest of them. Was Boyd there?"

Eden shakes her head. "I don't remember seeing him. That was when he started recruiting his so-called commandos- guys from all over. I didn't really know any of them by that point, just this one guy. He was always pretty harmless. We used to give each other shit. I was just standing there like someone'd nailed my feet to the steps, and Devil's telling me to go on. This other guy finally comes along and moves me…helps me down the steps and walks me to my car. Helps me inside and tells me, 'Edie, don't come back. Devil ain't forgot you and Boyd ain't forgot you either. Don't you come back.'"

"Who was that- the one who helped you to your car?"

"I don't know if he's still around even. He was from Florida. Boy named-"

"Dewey Crowe?" Raylan asks. "Yeah, he's still around. And as much as I'd like to hate him…"

Eden nods and tries to smile. "You can't hate Dewey Crowe. That'd be like hating puppies."

"Stupid, floppy-eared, salivating puppies."

"Yeah, I know he ain't any good, but he has moments of unintentional goodness."

"That about nails it," Raylan says. He puts his hat back on and stands up. "I probably don't need to tell you that the thing I went down to Harlan for- the thing I got called away on- it didn't pan out. We've read through your notes, and my boss would like to call you in for further questioning."

He offers Eden a hand. She takes it and stands up.

"Am I under arrest?"

"Why would you be under arrest?"

"Well, I didn't blow anything up myself, but I was complacent in a lot of things. I'm just as guilty as they are."

Raylan shakes his head. "I don't think you're going to jail."

"Just me and my conscience then," she says. "Condemned to freedom."

"Better you than Boyd," Raylan tells her. "Can you come in tomorrow morning?"


	11. Chapter 11

I do not own Justified.

**Troublesome Girl- Eleven**

Art scatters them to the wind the next morning. Raylan heads off to get the Raney girl. Tim goes to meet the cop from Louisville transporting Dewey Crowe. Rachel is relieved with her assignment. Art tells her to follow up with Lexington PD. Rachel is fine with that, although she could really care less that another drug dealer met a violent end. It's an excuse to get outside and away from the Harlan County Circus that's about to descend on the Marshall's office.

She drives with the windows down. She can still smell Tim- Grain Belt and second hand cigarettes- in her car. Her nephew asked her about when she drove him to school this morning. She knows that smell sets off an alarm inside that boy. She hates her former brother-in-law for that. She takes deep breathes of the outside, morning air and reminds herself to hate him and not Gutterson. She will need to speak to him about that. Tim gets triggers; he'll understand that she can't be picking him up drunk anymore. Nick is her priority.

She's calm by the time she reaches the station. She has her speech for Tim filed away. She's prepared for the protest LPD is no-doubt going to give her about not sharing witnesses, and she's prepared with her response. Boyd Crowder did her a favorite by visiting Eden Raney at the library. Raylan told Rachel and Art about that this morning. The decision was made that she would be formally put in protective custody. This means LPD is going to have to back off. If they don't want to do that, Art will set Vasquez on them.

It's a crime to have to go back indoors. Rachel parks her car and pauses to look at the just-blooming apple blossoms on the trees surrounding the police station. They remind of one they had in their yard when she was a kid. She and Shawnee would climb it and hold off marauding bands of neighborhood boys from their crow's nest by pegging them with apples. Shawnee had a hell of an arm. Rachel reminds herself to tell Nick about that.

One last deep breath and she steps inside. The smell of varnish assaults her. There is noise everywhere. The light is artificial. She straightens her jacket and sets to finding Officer Roth.

He sees her from his desk at the opposite side of a sea of desks. He waves. He looks excited which confuses Rachel because she has been psyching herself up for an argument.

They introduce themselves to each other once again. He tells her he's glad she's here.

"I bet you were expecting me to cry around about Raney's sister-in-law not talking," he says. "Won't lie to you- that was the plan until I got here this morning and ballistics called me. They got a hit on the gun that killed Charlie Raney."

"That was fast."

"Yeah, they must've been up to something else in their office already. They were open for business last night. Anyway, the weapon popped up and it's a gun that's been used in a couple of small-time gas station, c-store holds up in Virginia and Tennessee. All of 'em mom-and-pop, rural joints without cameras, but the owners all started giving similar descriptions and local PD think it's a kid from Harlan County named Arlen Raney Junior."

"You're kidding," Rachel says. Damned if she can't get away from Raylan's Harlan madness even for a minute. "He's wanted for interstate flight. He stayed across state lines for six months and then he comes all the way up here to kill his own brother?"

"And leave behind his brother's wallet, his gun, his phone, and his brick of Claireborne County's finest. No one's accusing the kid of being bright. We are, however, now charging him with first-degree murder. Tack on three counts of armed robbery in Tennessee and Virginia and an escape and alluding here and we got us a veritable law enforcement clusterfuck."

He grins at her, then takes it down a few notches when she blinks in reply.

"Collaboration," he says. "Collaboration is probably a better word."

"We use the other one at the Marshall's office, too," Rachel assures him. She asks if there's a table where she can to begin going over what LPD has collected on A.J. Raney.

* * *

><p>Being the father of girls, Art can't help but notice how girls these days dress. It often makes him nervous. He wonders what's going on in their heads when they think they need to show so much skin. Is it feminism gone backwards- do they do it because they can? Or is it some kind of desperation? The times he's seen Ava Crowder, Art guesses the scales tip in the direction of desperation. She can carry it off- sure- but she lacks the sophistication a woman her age should be trying to convey. She's a bright woman, Art thinks; he hardly needs to see her bare shoulders or anything above her knees. Any man alive would be knocked on his ass by her smile and her determination. She doesn't need to lead with a stunning visual display.<p>

Eden Raney is just as confusing, but at least Art can look at her and not feel like a pervert. She enters the Marshall's office followed by Raylan- who opens the door for her. She's wearing jeans and a Sooners t-shirt. She looks tired, but she smiles at Art. He notices again that her ear is pierced in a weird place- on that little bump on the inside. He makes a mental note to ask his oldest daughter about that. She is a wealth of information on tattoos and piercings- his graduate school girl- although she has none that he has ever seen. He suspects they are there, but that she has chosen to heed his old house rule on piercings and tattoos: nowhere a judge can seem 'em.

"Good morning, Ms. Raney," he says to her. She looks her age to him now. She's twenty-eight- the same age as Tim, and Rachel, and his oldest daughter. Art has managed to shield that daughter or steer her away from the level of life the other three have all led. He's proud of that. Rachel came out of it and into his office with her head already screwed on straight. Tim plays it a little closer to the edge, but seems to revel in the stability of Marshall's service procedure. Eden's a librarian- Raylan has told him. She's sought out the same kind of stability for herself.

She looks like a street urchin, Art thinks, but he can trust her.

"Sir," she says and nods. She's decided she can trust him as well. She's a little shy in his presence, but respectful. She won't smoke around him, if she's a smoker. She'll never call him anything other than 'sir'.

"Raylan, I'm going to have you and Ms. Raney take the conference room. Given your run-in with Boyd yesterday, we're going to have someone start tailing you, Ms. Raney. It's just a precaution for the duration of the investigation. There are some logistics to go though, and Raylan will go through them with you."

She nods. No one ever looks happy to sign on for protective custody. Eden's face is difficult to read, but Art guesses her dropped gaze and quick twitch of her eyebrows masks fear. She never expected to be able to drop her notebook off and be done with it, but she didn't expect Boyd to catch up to her so quickly either.

"Yes, sir," she says.

Eden follows Raylan into the conference room. He asks if she needs anything- water or coffee.

"Can I get one of those stick-on name tags that says MISS HARPER real big?"

She grins.

"I'll look," Raylan tells her. "I'm going to have coffee…"

She agrees to coffee. She frowns when he takes the file with her name on it out of the room when he goes. He returns with the coffee and sits down across from her.

"So, you've only ever gone by Harper and Raney?" He begins and she nods. "Your legal name is now…"

"Eden Summer Harper Raney. Trying to just be Eden Harper."

"Summer's nice," Raylan says. He'll run that one past Winona when he sees her.

"It's a little over-the-top. Eden Summer. You can about guess what kind of drugs my mom was using."

"And your mom…"

"Deceased. The only living relative that I know of is my grandfather. He's in a nursing home in Oklahoma. I guess- if you want to count Devil's family- there's his little brother Arlen. Haven't seen him in years, though."

Raylan nods. "We have your contact information. There are a couple of forms you need to sign- like releases of information. Someone from this office will tail you for the duration of the investigation. It won't always be me. We take turns. Art might sometimes- he seems to like you. Otherwise it will be me, Rachel Brooks or Tim Gutterson…"

"Which one's that? The one looks like his mama dressed him?"

Raylan chokes on his coffee. He's going to remember that one.

"Yes, that's the one. He's a sniper. Good guy to have watching you from a distance."

"How much of a distance are we talking?" She asks. "Am I going to know you're there? Are you in my house? Following me to work?"

"We're not in your house," Raylan tells her. "Across the street, maybe. We'll follow you if you leave. I will have to ask you not to go on any extended journeys, leave the state, go anywhere without calling us. We rather you didn't go down to Cumberland after Devil's remains. We can arrange to have them transported up here. We'd like you to stay out of the Harlan- Cumberland area."

She nods. "Not a problem. How long does this go on?"

"Hard to say. Boyd's slipped the noose on us a couple of times already. My boss wants this to be pretty air-tight. We've never had anything that could connect him to the robberies before. These charges will be brand new. We can use your journals to back up forensic evidence, connect to jobs we didn't know were his…it could take a while." He feels compelled to add: "I'm sorry."

Art taps on the glass door and pokes his head in.

"Raylan, sorry to interrupt…excuse me, ma'am…but your assistance is being requested in the north parking lot. Tim's got a live one down there."

Raylan glares at Art.

Art grins. "Go on. Don't you worry- I'll pick up with Ms. Raney here. You go on down, help Tim, do what you got to do."

"Can I consider that your permission to use a Taser? And a bat?"

"When you have ever needed my permission?" Art says. He steps aside to let Raylan through the door. He winks at Eden and sits down across from her. "Where are we at, Ms. Raney?"

"We're at where can I go in this court house to get my name legally changed back?" She smiles and adds, "Sir."

"I did check on that. Clerk of courts. I'll walk you down this afternoon sometime."

"Thank you," she says. She presses her lips together and looks at the wall behind Art's shoulder. She's losing part of her identity, Art thinks. She thought she'd wanted it gone, but it's been with her for so long that she isn't sure where to go without it.

Maybe some time in protection will help her. Give her a chance to live a sheltered life for a little while she's getting used to being all grown up without her husband and Harlan.


	12. Chapter 12

I do not own Justified or "Fire in the Hole".

Sure, Dewey Crowe is awesome, but does anyone else get all happy when they see Vasquez lurking around? Because I sure do.

**Troublesome Girl- Twelve**

Tim meets the Louisville PD officer, with Dewey in tow, at the rest stop south of Frankfort. The first thing out of Dewey's mouth is, "You're not Raylan."

Tim takes a step back and feigns surprise. "You're not Elvis Presley. I guess we're both in the wrong place."

Turns out, it is a poor decision. Dewey does not appreciate the joke and remains surly for the entire trip back to Lexington.

"I was told Raylan Givens would be coming after me."

"No one told you any such thing."

"They said the Marshall would come after me."

"There are other Marshalls. Raylan isn't the only one in the office with a driver's license."

"Well, I would hope not," Dewey says, pouting at the wind shield. Thus begins the longest thirty-five minutes of Tim's life.

Dewey requests that they stop for a snack. Raylan had warned Tim about this, and Tim tells Dewey no. Not only are there other Marshalls at the Lexington office, there is food as well. Dewey wonders what kind of food.

"Marvelous food in a quantities and variety that you have never in your life imagined," Tim says. "It's like the Mad Hatter's tea party."

"Bullshit," Dewey says.

"There's donuts and coffee. And a vending machine downstairs."

"You know what kind of food they serve you in jail?"

"I know what kind of food they serve you in an Army Ranger outpost in the Pamir Mountains in Afghanistan. Is it worse than that?"

"You ever meet any of them Muslims over there?" Dewey changes the subject.

"In Afghanistan? A couple."

Dewey then asks Tim why the United States is at war with Afghanistan anyways. Tim really only knows why Tim the Army Ranger went to Afghanistan. He doesn't quite get himself why the U.S. is there. Fortunately (or not), Dewey has another direction in mind.

"I mean, what's the point? You ever been to New York City, Marshall?"

"Yes, once. Through the airport."

"You see them Twin Towers?"

Tim shakes his head. "No, it was after that."

"Then how do you know there was Twin Towers?"

Tim suggests that the plethora of film and photographic evidence on and preceding 9/11 makes him feel pretty certain.

Dewey shakes his head. "They can do all that special effects now. What if there was no 9/11? What if it was just computer mirage and the whole thing was contrived to send us into war with Afghanistan to keep our attentions drawn away from the real enemy?"

Never mind, Tim thinks, that we were in Afghanistan long before 9/11. Against his better judgment, he asks Dewey, "And who is the real enemy again? Israel, right?"

"Well, yeah," Dewey says. "Everybody knows that 9/11 was a charade rigged up by Israel to create a false threat to make us want to wipe out their Arab enemies for 'em."

"Everybody knows this…everybody except everybody in the City of New York and the entire United States Military."

"They're all in Israel's pocket."

"All of New York City…Jesus…so the whole time I was in Afghanistan, I was merely a pawn in Israel's game?"

Dewey nods. "And you are still, I am sorry to say, Marshall. What I don't know is if you know it yourself- if you're one of them- or if they've still got the wool pulled over your eyes. Raylan- I think he knows. He knows he's a pawn. That's why he's so angry."

"That must be it," Tim says. He grits his teeth and bears down on the gas. He calls Art and requests Raylan's back-up before he even reaches the parking garage. Raylan is waiting, leaning against the hood of the Town Car, when Tim and Dewey arrive.

"You got your quick-draw back? Just plug me one, right between the eyes," Tim says as he steps out of the car.

"Did he try to get you to stop for snacks?"

"Yes, and then he explained to me how 9/11 and quite possibly all of New York City is part of some complicated optical illusion orchestrated by the Jews to trick us into sending troops like myself to Afghanistan to take the heat off of Israel."

Raylan grins and shakes his head. "It's rough, ain't it- when you finally learn the truth?"

"Yeah, he says it's why you're so angry."

"Well, I wouldn't say that's the only reason."

Raylan steps to the passenger side of the car and yanks the door open.

"Well, if it ain't Dewey Crowe: hero, patriot. Goddamn, Dewey, the next time you find yourself locked in a moving vehicle with an honest-to-God wartime Veteran of the United States military, have the decency to pass the time in respectful silence, will you?"

"He asked…" Dewey protests.

Raylan looks around for Tim, but he's long-gone. He ushers Dewey from the car himself and prods him towards the elevator.

When the doors open at the fourth floor, Raylan expects to see Tim cooled off and waiting for them. Instead, Art stands at the entrance to the Marshall's office, arms folded across his chest, head tilted back. Raylan knows this look: something is fucked up.

"Good morning, Mr. Crowe," Art says and Dewey nods in reply. "Raylan, I'm going to need you escort Mr. Crowe to holding and then join me in my office."

Raylan cocks his head.

Dewey protests, "What'd I do? I didn't get drove all the way here to sit in another damned cell. I never got my breakfast…"

"Knock it off. Where else on earth does anyone address you as 'Mr. Crowe'?" Raylan jerks Dewey through the door, his eyes still on Art. "I'll get you some breakfast. You can have whatever weird shit Tim has stashed in his desk. Probably some granola or hummus…"

"Hummus? What's hummus? Is that Arab food?"

Raylan doesn't answer. He deposits Dewey in holding. He finds nothing but baby carrots in a Ziploc bag in Tim's desk. He decides to take pity on Dewey and asks the file clerk to get him a donut.

He peers in to the conference room. Eden Harper is still sitting at the table, filling some form or another. She sees him and shrugs. He holds up his index finger to indicate he'll be right back. He has a feeling that he won't.

The feeling is confirmed when he enters Art's office. Art is behind his desk. Tim is on the sofa seated next to AUSA Vasquez.

"How do you do it?" Raylan asks him.

Vasquez grins. "You _did_ miss me. I knew you did. Deputy Gutterson wasn't so sure, but I told him…"

"Vasquez is just up here to offer a little friendly advice," Art breaks in. "Actually, I called him. Wanted to make sure we got this one done right. I wanted some guidance on how to proceed. He was kind enough to come up here to deliver it in person."

Raylan shuts the door and goes to lean against Art's desk.

"This is the deal," Vasquez says, suddenly all business and speaking at break-neck speed. "She looks like a solid witness. So did Ava Crowder until Raylan slept with her. We're running out of shots with Boyd. We've never had him on any of the burglary charges before and if we blow this- by which I mean if the Marshall's service blows it- we don't get those back. We won't be able to re-try him."

"Are you insinuating…" Raylan stutters. "Christ, she's a little young. I'm not going to sleep with her."

"Damned right you're not," Vasquez says, smiling. "You're also not going to question her, tail her, or do so much as bring her a glass of water. You're backing off of this one, Raylan."

"Is that your advice or did someone die and make you Chief Deputy?"

Art taps a pen against his desk. "Here, here. I'm not quite dead yet. Raylan, I'm taking Vasquez's advice to the extent that the resources in this office allow. David, Rachel is lead on another case. I can have Tim take lead with Eden Raney, but I'm still going to need Raylan to take shifts on protection. I simply don't have enough man-power to take him off completely."

"That's just my advice," Vasquez tells him. "Make Tim lead. Keep Raylan as much out of the day-to-day as possible. If we go to trial, someone is going to need to have a talk with the young lady to explain that defense is going to do everything imaginable to discredit her reputation and her relationship to the Marshalls in this office. Have fun telling her why that is."

"I'd have thought that would be the lawyer's responsibility," Tim says. "If it goes to trial."

"I'm not really the warm, fuzzy type. Which one of you is the warm, fuzzy one? Again, I recommend no warm fuzziness from Raylan."

"Jesus, Art…" Raylan looks over his shoulder. "She came looking for me. She sought me out. We have a rapport."

Vasquez rolls his eyes. "Did you have a rapport before the day before yesterday? Please tell me you didn't. Either way, she seems like a lovely, well-adjusted girl. She'll learn to bond with another Marshall. I was hoping that could be Rachel, but you'll do."

Tim raises an eyebrow at Vasquez and then looks at Art.

"Does this mean Raylan gets Crowe?"

"It does."

"Good enough for me," Tim says, and he's on his feet. He claps Raylan on the arm as he heads for the door. "Remember- if he tries to get you to pull over to eat, it's a trap. And don't ever get him started talking about Israel or Afghanistan or anything else. Give him my regards."

Raylan screws up his face like he's been poked in the gut with stick. He glares at the blinds covering the glass wall.

Art says, "Raylan, it's for the best. Nobody's accusing you of anything. Damn, you've barely had time, but you know they'll bring up Ava if you're name is attached to this in any significant way. You want Boyd and I know you don't want to see the girl get dragged through the mud anymore than necessary. Vasquez is right on this one."

Raylan says nothing.

"I know, I know. You don't want to say it out loud. Afraid it would go to my head?" Vasquez says. "Well, my work here is done."

He stands and nods to Art. He gives Raylan a small salute, picks up his briefcase, and leaves the office.

Raylan exhales.

"You know he's right," Art says again. "Vasquez is looking out for you and her both here. Now, why don't you go see if Crowe's finished with his donut?"

"Kick me while I'm down, why don't you, Art?" Raylan says.

He leaves Art's office and tosses his hat at his desk. Tim has left a file there for him- copies of the dates and locations of Boyd's robberies, according to Eden's notes, and a list of robberies Boyd is already suspected of. Eden has listed at least five more. Tim has scrawled a request on a sticky note for Raylan to check in to the other five.

Raylan picks up the file and goes to get Dewey.


	13. Chapter 13

I do not own Justified or "Fire in the Hole".

**Troublesome Girl- Thirteen**

Tim is a watcher and a researcher. If he's going to get to know a witness, he'd prefer to do it on paper first. The meeting with Vasquez tells him that the powers that be are going to take their sweet time building their next case against Boyd. Tim, therefore, has time to do some checking on Eden Raney.

He's already made up his mind, by the time he gets to the conference room, that he's going to cut her loose for the day. Everything he's heard about her second-hand from Raylan and Art puzzles him. It nags at him to the point of distrust. He sure doesn't buy the whole "Devil never raised a hand against me" line.

She raises her eyebrows when he enters the conference room and sits down across from her. He half-expect the same line he got from Dewey: "You're not Raylan Givens".

He introduces himself for that can happen: "Ms. Raney, I'm Deputy Gutterson. Deputy Givens has been pulled away on some other business. I'm going to finish getting you set up with protective services and then we'll take you downstairs and start that petition to change your name."

She nods.

He tells her. "We'll start protective services tonight. You can go back to work this afternoon. I assume Raylan told you that we'll need you to stay in the state, keep a pretty predictable schedule, stay out of Harlan…"

"Yes, sir," she replies. She trusts him about as much as he trusts her- he can hear that in her curt, formal reply. It's to be expected, he figures. She did choose Raylan, and she's under a lot of stress. The personnel change is likely going to shut her down for a while.

Tim hears the holding cell open and close behind him. Eden's eyes widen. She ducks back out of sight of the door, and then looks again.

"I'll be damned, is that Dewey Crowe?" She whispers. "I'da thought evolution would have weeded him out by now."

"Teach you to bet against creationism."

"Tells me the Lord is asleep at the wheel for certain. What's Dewey doing here?"

"Couldn't tell you, and if I could, I probably shouldn't."

"Should I let him see me?"

"Did you and Mr. Crowe have an amicable relationship?"

She almost laughs at that. "We peacefully coexisted. I think he was a little scared of me. Thought I was a whack-job."

"Crowe thought _you_ were a whack-job?" Tim raises an eyebrow, but doesn't look up from the file he's reading.

She decides to test his reaction. She tells him:

""Yeah, I just used to give him a lot of shit. The first time Devil got out of the pen, and he dragged me back down to Harlan, we ended up sleeping on Boyd's couch for a couple of days. And you know- well, maybe you don't- but if your old man's been in prison for a year and half…shit…" She turns a little red and looks away from him. "Well, I mean, you just want to do it any which way you can. So, it's real early in the morning, we're fooling around, and afterwards we get up and Devil drags me out on the porch to watch the sun come up, and that's when I notice Dewey's been asleep in a chair across the room the whole time. I guess he cried around to Devil later about having to listen to us. And Devil told him to shut it or he'd kill him. He asked Dewey why he didn't just leave, and Dewey had some appropriately bizarre reason…you have to know Dewey, I guess. Anyway, for about a month after that, every time I'd walk by him I'd squeak "oh God, baby, don't stop" or something to that effect. Dewey'd turn bloody beet red, and cuss me out, and Devil'd get mad. Boyd thought it was hilarious. The only time I ever saw Boyd laugh about anything. Anyway…"

She looks back at Tim. He's smiling at her, but his amusement tells her that he's got her pegged as a redneck like all the rest of them. Maybe she is; she's spent years trying to outrun it. Maybe Deputy Gutterson can see something that she's been able to hide from everyone else. Whatever the case, his smile makes her want to run for the door.

"Yeah," she says with a shrug. "Fun times at the white supremacist compound. I know."

"Would you say Crowe poses any threat to you?"

"Have you met Dewey Crowe?"

"So 'no', then," Tim smirks, and then he's back to business. "I'm going to give you my card. Put the number in your phone. You have Raylan's, too? I want you to call any time if you see anything, anyone suspicious. Go with your gut. If you get home and something doesn't feel right, make the call. We won't be too far."

Eden reaches across the table and drags the card towards her.

"I'm sure you'll be in good company there, Marshall," she says.

"It's possible," Tim tells her. "Come on out here and have some coffee. I'll call down and see if there's a judge free to hear your petition for name change."

* * *

><p>Dewey is memorized by something- possibly a moth or loose feather from a pigeon- fluttering by the window. He doesn't notice Eden when she sits down next to him.<p>

"What's going on, Dewey?" she says, and he jumps.

"Holy shit, Edie? What're you doing here? You looking for Devil?...'cause I don't know where he is. He said you was trying to make him sign papers and Boyd told him not to because of the government wanting to interfere with the sanctity of marriage between a man and a woman…and…"

Eden gestures with her hand for him to get on with it.

"…and, well, I don't know where Devil is."

"Devil's in Cumberland, Dewey. He's dead."

"Shit. You didn't kill him, did you?"

Eden looks incredulous. "No, Boyd did."

"Boyd wouldn't kill Devil."

"You're sure on that? One hundred percent? Just like you're sure Boyd wouldn't pop you?"

Dewey shrugs and looks back at the window again. "Maybe not a hundred percent."

Eden nods. "Where's your gator teeth?"

"I lost 'em. They took 'em from me when I went to prison."

"How come you didn't get 'em back when you got out?"

"'Cause I escaped. Never got none of my belongings back." He seems distraught by the unfairness of it all.

Eden raises her eyebrows, feigning being impressed. "I'll be damned. Devil never even escaped from prison. That's quite a feat. Sorry about your gator teeth."

"That's alright. Sorry about Devil. Hey, what're you doing here?"

"I was trying to get a divorce. Now I'm just sitting on my ass waiting to find out if they think I can be of any use."

Dewey nods. "I do that here a lot."

"You been of any use yet?"

"I been trying not to."

Eden sneaks a look across the office at Tim, who has been listening in and trying to not laugh. She's trying not to laugh either. Tim has to give her credit- she's sweet to Dewey Crowe. She's enjoying giving him a hard time, but she's the only person besides Raylan who's ever been able to carry on an actual conversation with the idiot.

"I'm sure you're doing a damn fine job of that, Dewey. I'm going to get some water. You want some?"

"Can you get me some coffee?"

"Yeah, I can do that." She stands and crosses the room. "You take anything in it?"

Dewey tells her he's starving and would she please put as much of everything in it as she can. He needs the sustenance.

Tim puts the phone down and tells Eden as she walks past, "When you're done there, the judge can see you. He's kind of a personality, but I'm sure he'll be happy to grant you your name change. If he seems overly jubilant that you're single, just…just don't mind him."

Eden frowns and nods. She goes across the room and pours herself a cup of water from the cooler. She drinks it while she makes Dewey a cup of cream and sugar with coffee in it.

She takes the cup back to Dewey and looks over her shoulder towards Tim.

"I guess I'll see you around, Dewey," she says.

"Yeah, you take care, Edie. If they ask, put in a good for me, will you?"

She grins and tells him he will. Again, Tim is confused. She sounds genuine when she says it. She really will put in a good word for Dewey Crowe, if she can. Dewey who can barely keep his neo-Nazi tattooed neck above water in the criminal world. Tim can't imagine what good word Eden could have to put in. That he didn't kill her?

"Come with me, Ms. Raney," he says.

They go through the dance- the one she had gotten past with Raylan- of who goes through a door first and who holds it. Eden hangs at Tim's side as though he had her on a leash. She sees herself as more his prisoner than his ward.

He sneaks a closer look at her on the elevator ride. She's as tall as he is; in heels, she'd tower over him. He can't see any tattoos- or scars from removed tattoos- peeking from under her t-shirt sleeves. Her stance and her loose shoulders tell him that she isn't afraid of him. She doesn't want to talk to him, but she isn't intimidated either.

He smirks to himself. If she learned anything from her former husband- and if Tim was unarmed- she could probably hold her own in a fight. He makes a mental note to look for any old assault charges, any charges for disturbing the peace. There has to be something. No way she could have lived waist-deep in Harlan for as long as she did and not got any on her.

The elevator doors open. Tim gestures for her to step out first. He follows her. The doors to Judge Reardon's chambers down the hall are open and Tim can hear him arguing with Vasquez about something. Reardon is baiting Vasquez- tossing out a few disparaging comments about illegal immigrants, knowing full-well that Vasquez was born in New Jersey, seeing if he'll bite.

Vasquez doesn't. He leaves Reardon's office grumbling about his citizenship being no good since Kentucky has apparently left the Union again. He rolls his eyes at Tim.

"Kentucky was a Union state," Tim tells him.

Vasquez says, "Tell that to Kentucky. His Honor is in rare form today."

"I warned her. All she needs is a signature. We should be in and out."

"Check and make sure he's got pants on before you take her in," Vasquez reminds him. "I'd hate for her to be traumatized into muteness at the sight…No signature is worth that."

From inside his chambers, Reardon shouts, "Can I help you, Deputy?"

Tim motions for Eden to wait. He steps inside Reardon's office alone, only beckoning her forth when he is satisfied that the judge is clothed.


	14. Chapter 14

I do not own Justified, "Fire in the Hole", or Cory Branan's song "Troublesome Girl".

**Troublesome Girl- Fourteen**

_Brother, I'm telling you if it seems to good to be true, it's probably just what it seems..._

"Pull up a chair," Raylan beckons Dewey towards his desk because Dewey is handcuffed to a bench and can't move any closer.

"You can go straight to hell," Dewey tells him.

Raylan grins. He pretends surprise that Dewey is cuffed- in spite of that fact that it was Raylan who cuffed him. He crosses the room, frees Dewey, and points again to the chair next to his desk.

"Just a few questions for you, Dewey, and then I'll let you get back to your day."

"My day here or in Louisville?"

"Play your cards right and I'll make that your choice. Might even be a burger in it for you."

"With cheese."

"Like I said, play your cards right. I need to ask you a few questions about Eden Raney."

Dewey shrugs like that's doable to for him.

"You two know each other pretty well?" Raylan asks.

"Well, I don't like to say," Dewey replies and Raylan furrows his brow, not knowing what that might mean. Dewey leans forward and elaborates, "I mean, Devil wouldn't like me saying- or anyone saying- that they know'd her well. She was his girl, you know?"

"I'm not insinuating that you've slept with her. I think we both know that never happened. I'm asking did you talk to her?"

"Well, hell, yeah," Dewey seems relieved. He sits back again. "We talked. Didn't know what she was talking about half the time, and- seriously- I don't think Devil did either. Only one who could carry on a conversation with her was Boyd and she didn't like talking with him."

"How come?"

"'Cause they didn't agree on nothing and she was scared of him. Knew better than to pick a fight with Boyd. She's a smart girl."

"Did you ever see her and Boyd fight?"

"No, I seen 'em come close, though. She cleaned that trailer once when we was all off raising hell. She got left behind with nothing to do and you know how women are…she cleaned Boyd's trailer."

Raylan has a hard time believing that Dewey knows anything about how women are, but he decides to remain silent and let Dewey roll with it.

"So, we come back and the place is clean. She just scrubbed all the bachelor pad right off of it. Found my keys, too. She had spaghetti on the stove and the whole table laid out with all the guns and shells and shit she'd found. Boyd just looked at that table and looked at Edie and his voice got real low and quiet like it does…usually before he pops someone…and he asks her where she found 'em. And she didn't hit the roof or nothing neither, just says in that same low, quiet voice that she found 'em everywhere and he didn't even know he had 'em, she'd bet. Called him a…a…not a whore…a…"

"A hoarder?"

"Yeah, a pathological hoarder's what she called him. Boyd kind of smiled at that, but it wasn't a good smile. Thanked her for making supper, and didn't say nothing else. Soon as he turned his back, Devil had her by the arm and was hauling her outside to talk at her."

"He knock her around?"

Dewey shakes his head. "I never seen Devil knock her around. Seen him hit just about everyone else ever crossed his path, but I never seen him hit her. Maybe he did, but I never seen it. Never seen bruises on her. Anyway, he gave her a talking-to, and they come back in all quiet. We all ate spaghetti, and after a while, she walks past Devil again and he pulls her down to sit on his lap. Wrapped his arm around her like nothing happened. She never cleaned again, though. That sort of sucked. I wished she and Boyd could've worked that shit out 'cause that place is filthy."

Raylan nods. He asks, not quite believing he's asking who he's asking, "So, would you say she's reliable?"

"Reliable? Like did she pay her bills on time? Hell, I don't know. Devil was so by-the-book…"

"What book is that?"

"Just screwed on tight. Squirrelly. He was a worrier, Devil was. Edie's like…she just does what she wants. Shit, if I had a woman what looked like that, I'd let her do whatever she wanted too. Is she _what_ now?"

Raylan rolls his eyes. "Is she truthful? Can I trust what she says?"

"Sure," Dewey says, shrugging. "Why? What'd she say?"

"Not important," Raylan lies. "I haven't asked her anything yet."

"Well, I trust her," Dewey says. He says it with conviction, like conviction from Dewey should make all the difference in the world to Raylan.

* * *

><p>"Look at him," Art says to Raylan. He nods towards Tim coming through the main doors towards Art's office. "He's like an old woman. He's got dirt on someone and he can't wait to crow about it."<p>

Raylan grins. It's almost five-thirty, but they've been waiting for Tim. They've moved from the conference room to Art's office to be closer to the bourbon.

Raylan moves over from the sofa to the chair. It at least gives the appearance that he's only listening to what Art and Tim will be discussing and not a part of the conversation.

Tim enters the office, downs the shot they having waiting for him and spreads his afternoon's discoveries out on Art's desk. He sits back on the couch.

"So, what's worth knowing about Eden Raney?" Art asks.

"Eden Harper, again, as of this afternoon," Tim tells him. He hands Raylan a duplicate file. "The ATF was keeping tabs on Devil for a while. They picked Eden up once and tried to rattle something out of her. Seems she succeeded in making herself pretty useless to them. Everything we know about her comes from the ATF, though. No charges, just some background digging. Got a copy of her marriage license in there. She and Raney were indeed legally married in Knoxville in May of 2002. Probably the only legal thing he ever did.

"I was looking for a record of anything violent with Eden, but I came up empty. She had a couple of run-ins as a juvenile- underage, open container, possession of less than an ounce. There was one for shoplifting, but that was before she got to Kentucky. There's a partial file with Department of Human Services. She spent more time in foster care than not, but her mother's file is actually more interesting."

Art frowns. "You pulled her mom's DHS file?"

"No, her FBI file- she had one," Tim tells him. "Turns out, the mother was under surveillance more than once. She was never anything more than a member of an entourage, but she lived in a few hippy communes- presumably with Eden- that the FBI kept tabs on. They were all suspected of being fronts for drug trafficking, possibly polygamists and human traffickers, but it doesn't sound like the FBI ever found a good enough reason to raid 'em. The mom got busted for mushrooms once."

Raylan says, "Eden said she thought the mother was bipolar. Said she kind of ran out of steam when they hit Harlan. Spent most of Eden's high school years in an out of the hospital. She said Devil never met her mother more than twice, and after she married him she didn't see her mother again."

"The mother still alive?" Art asks.

Tim shakes his head. "She killed herself in 2004. Right after Devil went to KSCI. Hung herself in the shower at Central. Eden came into some settlement money because her mom died while in State custody. I'm guessing that's where Eden got her start-up money to move to Lexington."

"Do we have any indication that Ms. Harper…the mother was a Harper?"

"Yeah…Karla Rae Harper…"

"Did Ms. Harper pass on any of her eccentricities on to Eden?"

"No, nothing like that," Tim sounds almost disappointed. "School records say that Eden was diagnosed with attention deficit disorder, but never took medication for it. She's had a couple of chemical dependency evals done because of the underage drinking arrests, but none of them showed any problems there. That was ten or twelve years ago, though."

Raylan taps the file in front of him. "She's been forthcoming enough with me. I don't think there's anything here that should make us think she's not on the level."

"She's telling the truth, and it's not a truth she's hallucinating. She's hated Boyd for years, and she can finally get back at him without it hurting Devil," Art says, hoping to move Tim towards a summary of some sort. Art is beat and he's ready to go home. "How can we be helpful to each other without getting her killed?"

"I think we have one piece of information in particular that could help her out. Maybe. I pulled the mom's file because it kept bothering me why they were in Harlan County in the first place. The mother's family is from Oklahoma. She wandered all over with Eden and before she had her, but always to the kinds of places you'd suspect of someone looking for a commune- San Francisco, Utah, Montana…Eden may have been born in Mexico. She has a defacto birth certificate from the DHS in Lawton, Oklahoma. I don't know…it just bugged me. There's no communes in Harlan County. I figured she must've been in some kind of legal shit and looking for a place to hide."

"But she wasn't?"

"Not exactly," Tim says and shakes his head. He indicates that Raylan should open the file and flip back a few pages. "There was some legal shit of an entirely different sort. Right after they moved to Cumberland in 2000, the mother filed a paternity suit. It never went anywhere; Ms. Harper herself dropped it, although there are a couple of police reports around the same time that would suggest she was being harassed."

"Oh, Jesus," Raylan mutters.

Tim nods, guessing Raylan has seen what he wanted him to see. He tells Art, "Karla Rae Harper claimed that Eden's father was Bo Crowder."

Art leans back in his chair, clasps his hands behind his head.

"Well," he says. "The tangled web we weave. I suppose it's possible- given Ms. Harper's mental health history- that she was confused or contrived the situation in some way. They never lived in Kentucky before Eden was in high school?"

"Bo did some time in Oklahoma. I remember seeing that somewhere," Raylan offers. "Could've stuck around for parole after he got out. Don't remember where, though."

Tim shakes his head. "I checked."

"He checked." Raylan smirks. "Of course he checked."

"Yeah, and Bo Crowder was in a community center with work release in Altus- about an hour outside of Lawton."

The three of them sit in silence for almost a minute. Then Art says:

"Well, ain't that a pisser."


	15. Chapter 15

I do not own "Justified" or "Fire in the Hole".

**Troublesome Girl- Fifteen**

Etta James is a couple of months in the ground, and the neighbors are still mourning. They're playing "Someone to Watch Over Me"- bless 'em, it's even on vinyl- and Eden can hear it through the wall. What every woman wants- the lyrics to that song. He don't have to be good-lookin', just a guardian to watch over me.

Except now that's what she's got, and she's not so sure about it. It's just after dark. She wants to go to the window and check. She wants to get high. She wants to take a walk- do all the shit they told her not to do. She wants to drive and smoke and listen to loud music. If she does, whichever one is out there waiting will follow her.

This is weird. She feels like a prisoner and it's making her want to act up.

She goes to the window and peers around the edge of the curtain. There it is, parked across the street, at the corner of the block: a black Explorer. The windows are dark, but she can see a faint light from inside. The occupant is barely illuminated by his iPhone. Maybe he's checking his facebook or playing Angry Birds. Really, she can't be sure it's a 'he' in there. She's just guessing. They stuck that Deputy Gutterson on her; he probably gets first watch. And he strikes her as one angry little bird.

Through the wall, Eden hears the record begin to skip and the stoners groan in annoyance at it. Everyone feels too close. She feels caged. If she leaves the light on in the front room, she decides, and goes out the back door it will take the Angry Bird a while to catch on. He can't be that good, and he's caught up with his phone. She can be halfway to the bar before it registers that she's gone.

* * *

><p>Slutty girls intimidate him so he always falls in with the nice girls who bore him to death. He keeps his distance from the hardcore, wild girls. He has a gift for blending in to the wallpaper. On the rare occasions when someone draws him out, he talks in deadpan and innuendo. They can't tell if he's joking or serious. They figure he's mocking them, and usually he is. Before they have a chance to mock him.<p>

In the military, they trained him to make up little stories about his targets. He was good at it. Even after they concluded that was a bad idea and started training him to do the opposite- to not think about his targets at all- he kept doing it because it was fun. He reads more than people would guess. He doesn't talk about books, but he looks up to writers. They would make the best snipers of all, he thinks.

He sits against the wall of the bar and watches the witness who came to Raylan and makes up a story about her in his head. It's pretty easy- he's read up on her, did most of the fact-finding because Raylan never does it. He knows more about her than she knows about herself. He feels a little guilty about that so he makes up a story that makes him feel less guilty.

She's slept around since she left Devil. Since they never got legally divorced, legally it's cheating. After the first time, it didn't bother her. The first time was weird. It was like being a virgin all over again after being with the same person for so long.

Now her husband's dead and it isn't cheating anymore. It's given her a new kind of freedom. She doesn't seem to like it much because she's drinking her evening away. Tim knows the feeling. She quoted Sartre to Raylan. He didn't know it was Sartre, but he liked the concept and repeated it to Tim. Tim knows that line well- which would come as a shock to anyone who knows him-but who better than a trained killer to know what it feels like to be condemned to freedom?

She's drinking something green. It's a gin or a vodka gimlet. She's had three, and she still looks pretty lively, so she can hold her liquor. A college kid has been talking to her and she thinks he's too young. She isn't that much older, but he's making her uncomfortable. He wants her to be his Maggie Mae, show him the ropes. She doesn't want to start over. She doesn't want a trained monkey, not even one she trained herself. She came out tonight seeking comfort, but she came to the dumbest possible spot for finding it.

Tim can see from his perch along the wood -paneled wall that the college boy has said something to hurt her feelings. She should throw her drink at him, but she sets it down on the bar. She doesn't say a word. Her reaction throws a hitch in Tim's story. He wanted to see a drink thrown. His protagonist doesn't have the energy for it. If someone is going to shake some action here, it's going to have to be him. This is the part Tim hates. The only thing he hates more is seeing a tough blonde give up.

He peels himself off the wall and steps in to his own story. He crosses the room, leans past her- between her and pouting college boy- and picks up a napkin off the bar.

"You really like this music?" He jerks his head towards the stage. He tells her, "I hate this music."

"They sure wear their influences on their sleeve. I'd rather just listen to the old-school shit." She winks at him, never misses a beat. She picks up her drinks again, swirls it.

"Me too. I saw Sly and the Family Stone once…or Sly and the Still Breathing Family Stone. Weirdest USO show ever. "

"Did they do 'Que Sera Sera'? That one's my favorite."

"I don't remember. I didn't know who they were when they told us who was coming. I was just along for the drinking. Had to go look their songs up afterwards. Then I remembered my mom used to like them."

She nods. "My mom too. She saw them once."

"Woodstock?"

"No, she's too young. Altamont. She was there. Not where she saw Sly though."

"Where that guy got stabbed?"

"That's the one. My mama always knew how to find a good time."

The college boy- suddenly interested again now that it appears to be a competition- says to Tim, "Can I help you?"

"Doubt it." And he turns back to Eden.

"Are you Tim or Deputy Gutterson after hours?" She says.

"Tim," He tells her. "Tim whose Mom picks out his clothes for him."

She grimaces. "Wow, y'all are just like one big knitting circle in that office."

"We have to share information. It's a survival tactic."

"Hey, buddy," the college student turns Tim by the shoulder to face him. "Did you not see that I was talking to her? Are you trying to piss me off or are you just retarded or what?"

"I'm an alcoholic Afghan War vet with post traumatic stress issues. Which category does that put me in- 'Retarded'? Before you answer, please know that I also have a license to carry a concealed weapon."

"He's a walking billboard for the gun control lobby," Eden adds.

Tim nods. "You want to guess where I got that gun concealed? Or would you like it to be a surprise when we step outside?"

"Whatever," the college student says. He tilts his beer at Eden. "You got a beautiful ass, honey, but you're way too much work."

"I was thinking the same thing about you," she answers before Tim can interrupt and shut the little punk down. He shakes his head down at the bar. It was a better come-back than anything he had anyway.

"Ms. Raney…"

"Harper."

"Ms. Harper, you're not doing much of a job of being inconspicuous."

"I'm trying to retain some semblance of a normal life."

"That was normal? My condolences. Although we at the Marshall's service understand that you can't just spend the rest of your life- or even the rest of this investigation- sitting at home in the dark twiddling your thumbs, we do encourage witnesses to get hobbies that don't involve spending their evenings in half-lit crowded rooms full of drunk strangers."

"What do you suggest?"

"I hear knitting is nice," he says. When she frowns at him, he reminds her, "Knitting circle. We knit…and gossip…we gossipy Marshalls."

"I deserve that, I guess. It doesn't matter, you know. They'll find me if they want me found. I'm sure you're very good at your job…"

"I am."

"…but Boyd is nothing if not patient. He'll wait you out."

"Patience is my middle name."

"Really?"

"No, it's Alan, but I do have a certain gift for staying alert for long periods of time. And for shooting people from great distances."

"That usually brings the ladies to their knees, does it?"

"Only if I shoot one of them."

Eden cocks an eyebrow.

"I'm kidding. Never actually shot a woman."

"But I'm making it look tempting, huh? So what do you do while you're waiting around for long periods of time, trying to stay alert? Please, school me."

He makes up stories in his head. She's a librarian, probably the last person who'd make fun of him for it. She'd probably think it's cool. He's superstitious, though, just like a writer- another attribute writers and snipers share. If he talks about it, it might go away- the ability to spin stories in his head. If that were to happen, he'd just be a guy with a rifle in his hands thinking about what happens after he fires.

"Video games," he tells her.

She says, "ugh," and he is satisfied that he's shut that conversation down.

"I can give you a ride home," Tim says. "I know you walked here."

"Well, that's creepy."

"It's a skill. I should probably check your place out anyway. I'll give you a ride and then I can walk-through and make sure no one's there."

"Hell of a plan. What happens when you leave?"

"Nothing. I stay outside and watch and nothing happens to you."

"You're very confident. I don't know if it's going to make sleep better or worse, knowing you're outside watching me."

"Can't help you there," Tim tells her. "I've heard warm milk is good for that. Maybe you need a cat."

"Shit," she says and starts towards the door. "My punishment for turning on Boyd is going to be that I end up the crazy cat lady."

"I said _a_ cat, not twenty of them."

"You also said to get a hobby. One cat is hardly a hobby. Now, twenty cats…"

Tim shakes his head and follows her. He finds himself smiling thinking about Eden and her twenty cats. She's naming them after library patrons they remind her of. She names her favorite one Devil. It's orange and fights with the other cats. It sleeps with her and swats the others when they try to jump on the bed. She starts to believe it's him reincarnated, talks to it all the time, and sometimes she cries when she wakes up and finds it watching her.


	16. Chapter 16

I do not own Justified.

**Troublesome Girl- Sixteen**

AJ Raney sits down on the dusty kitchen floor of an abandoned house on the outskirts of Lexington. It's as far as he can make himself run before he falls on his face from exhaustion. There's a notice on the door and on all the boarded up windows of the house- it's set for demolition. AJ is familiar with the speed at which things get done in these neighborhoods. The length of the grass and the weeds outside confirm that the City isn't going to get around to this place any time soon.

His body starts to hurt as soon as he's still. He's been running on adrenaline for hours- since he saw Charlie's body in the street. Now, as the energy of panic starts to slip from his body, AJ can feel again and it overwhelms him.

He covers his face with his hands and begins to sob. The noise echoes in the empty house. He wishes there was someone there to tell him to shut up- quit being such a pussy- but he's all alone.

* * *

><p>AJ knows heat when he sees it. The Ford Explorer- too shiny and clean in the early morning light- sets off all the bells and whistles in his head. He stands on the opposite corner of the street, smoking and pretending to wait for a bus. Confident that he hasn't drawn any attention, he approaches his former sister-in-law's apartment from the alley.<p>

Her car is parked in back of the house. AJ smiles. She still has that awful blue Skylark. She and Devil bought it together and they kept it running like a son of a bitch.

He stops to peer in the window of the car just to be sure: she's still smoking and still listening to a bunch of weird-ass music he's never heard of. Definitely Edie's car.

This is further confirmed by a sharp hiss from the back door of the house.

"Are you out of your mind?"

AJ freezes, and then turns slowly. She's standing on the steps with a bag of trash. She looks like she just woke up.

He nods at the car.

"Can we take a ride?" He says in a loud whisper that's probably more conspicuous than if he just spoke in a normal voice.

She shakes her head.

"Get in here. I think they follow the car. Just get in here and wait."

He does as he's told. They pass each other without touching. She takes her trash to the dumpster. He guesses which apartment is hers because of the open door, but waits in the hall for her anyway.

Once she's returned and they're inside with the door closed, he kisses her on the cheek. She cuffs him lightly upside the head.

"You stupid little shit," she says.

AJ rolls his eyes. Seems like everyone greets him that way.

"Someone shot Charlie," he tells her.

"Yeah, Devil too," she says.

His eyes grow wide. He had no idea.

She tells him: "I went in to divorce him and they told me he was dead. Found him in the State Forest. They figure- I figure- it was Boyd."

"Boyd go after Charlie too?"

"They think you did Charlie, moron. You and him were both sighted up here at the same time."

"What the fuck? Why would I shoot my own brother? Boyd has more reason to do Charlie- what with the drug money and all."

Edie shrugs. She asks him if he wants anything to eat. He tells her yes, please and does she have any old clothes of Devil's.

"Are you shitting me? I haven't seen Devil in almost four years, AJ. I didn't keep his stuff."

"None of it?" AJ is hopeful. Devil had some nice guns, some good biker gear. AJ'd been hoping for maybe a pair of boots. They wore the same size.

Edie shakes her head. "Took it all down to Harlan and dumped it on the steps of Boyd's church in a box."

"Guns too?"

"Yeah, I figured I couldn't pawn 'em since they'd all been used in crimes. I don't think any of them were registered."

"Shit. I guess I'll just eat then," AJ says.

"I don't eat meat."

"Weirdo," he says. He's relaxed enough to grin at her. "You got any peanut butter?"

"Last I heard, peanut butter was not a meat," she says. She goes into the kitchen and he follows.

Feeling lonely as she is, AJ reminds Eden just enough of Devil to turn her on. That is, after she gets it out of her head that he's not fourteen anymore, the age he was when she first met him. He looks younger than his age. He looks like Devil did the first time he got sent and she used to visit him at SCI.

Maybe it's that AJ has that lonely look. The only time she ever saw it on Devil was when he was locked up. Before that, the only time he ever said "I love you" was in the heat of the moment in bed or in the back seat of a car.

He started saying it on visiting days though- quick and sort of desperate as she'd be getting up to leave.

"Baby, you know I love you."

Yeah, she knew and she told him so.

It took her longer to break down than it took Devil. She'd grown up with too many people she couldn't predict and couldn't trust. Words meant nothing to them. Sound one thing and do another. She had learned not to listen.

Devil's "I love you" always sounded more like a veiled "please don't leave me". When she started saying it back, it meant "Chill out- I'm still here".

Eden watches AJ, makes his sandwich and lets the feeling pass. She decides that even if the feeling is the same, the intention behind it is different. She doesn't really want to fuck him. She wants to protect him.

"You need money?" She asks.

"Wouldn't hurt."

"I'll have to go get some cash. You might as well take a nap. Marshalls are outside watching for Boyd, but they won't come in if I don't call for them."

* * *

><p>Tim watches Eden come out of the front of the house. She walks right up to the passenger side of the Explorer and taps on the window. Tim pushes the button to roll it down.<p>

"I'm going to the c-store to get some cigarettes," she says.

"I'm going to sit here and eat celery out of a bag," he tells her. "You don't really have to do this- check in with me…"

"Well, I didn't last night and you followed me to the bar. Figured I'd save you the trouble. You want anything?"

"I'm good." He raises the Ziploc bag and shows her the celery.

"Rock on, then," she says with a shrug and backs away. She seems jittery to him, but then she did imply that she was out of cigarettes. Tim rolls the window back up.

He watches her through the side mirror as she turns the corner and disappears. She turns back and looks at the Explorer once before she rounds the corner. It's then that Tim decides something is up.

He calls the office on the radio.

"Bored?" Art answers.

"Never. Eden just ran to the store, but I think there's someone in her apartment. I'm going to check. She's in the wind meanwhile."

"Alright. Check it out. How'd you know she's at the store?"

"She told me. Can't tell if she did it to tip me off that something's up or because she wants me to think everything's alright. Whatever- something's not right."

"Okay. Check it out. Keep in touch."

* * *

><p>The door isn't locked when she returns, but she figures maybe AJ just stepped outside for a cigarette or to case the neighborhood. Sitting still was never one of his or Devil's strong suits. She nearly swallows her tongue when she opens the door and Tim is there, Glock nine pulled and aimed at her.<p>

She drops her bag of groceries as her hand flies up to her heart.

"Holy shit. You scared me."

Tim cocks an eyebrow at her. He lowers the gun, but waits to return it to its holster until he sees that no one is coming in behind her. He says:

"Almost as much as I scared the guy who flew out your bedroom window. I'm guessing you knew he was here since you went out for more food."

"I just had someone over last night. I was creeped out. Didn't want to sleep alone."

Tim leans to pick up her bag of groceries. He gets a good look at her eyes when he hands it to her. She's lying- no doubt about it.

"Why'd he bail so fast when I came in? He wanted for something?"

"How should I know?"

"Well, you said you were sleeping with him."

Eden steps around him and heads towards the kitchen.

"Doesn't mean I ran a background check. That's your job."

"So give me a name. I'll do that for you."

She shakes her head and opens the refrigerator door. She knows he doesn't believe her. She'd prefer to have this conversation without having to make eye contact.

"Am I breaking some kind of law here, Marshall? Is it illegal to call up an on-again-off-again boy to sleep with me because I'm afraid of Boyd Crowder?"

"I don't think you're afraid of Boyd Crowder," Tim mumbles. Then he calls out of her, "If you're so afraid of Boyd, how come you put your hook-up in danger? I said all you had to do was call me."

She steps out into the kitchen doorway, an unlit cigarette hanging between her lips. She's smirking at him.

"I didn't know that was a service the Marshall's provided."

Tim can't help but think of Raylan and his antics. He shrugs.

"I'd have slept on your couch or we could've put you in a hotel if you wanted."

"Nope, I don't believe I want either. Coffee?"

She ducks back in to the kitchen. Tim puts in a call to Art and tells him that all is well.

"All is well, right?" He asks once he's ended the call. When Eden doesn't answer right away, he peeks in at her in the kitchen. "Right? I just told my Chief Deputy that all is well."

"You're the Marshall," she says. She hands him a cup of coffee and then nods for him to get out her way so that she can leave the kitchen with hers.

Tim steps aside and Eden walks passed him. She sits down on her couch and draws her feet up under her. She glares at him.

"What are we supposed to do now?" She asks.

Tim shrugs. He takes a seat at the dining room table indicating- he figures- that he isn't going to leave just yet.


	17. Chapter 17

I'm still here, and I still down own Justified.

**Troublesome Girl- Seventeen**

Eden takes a sip of her coffee. She looks down at her lap and then up at Tim again with a sly smile spreading across her face.

"Shoot," she says.

Tim smirks.

"Arlen Raney," he says.

"Senior or Junior?"

"Senior's dead, so I'm confident it wasn't him I saw just now."

"Stranger things have happened." Eden shrugs.

"Eden, are you aware of an on-going investigation into the whereabouts of Arlen Junior?"

She nods.

"Have you seen him lately- say within the last ten minutes?"

Eden sets her cup down on the coffee table. She can't get a read on this Deputy Gutterson. He doesn't remind her of anyone she's ever met. None of her people ever had the stones to go into the military. He doesn't have Deputy Givens' insecurity or Chief Deputy Mullen's gentleness. He's just hard, but he's hiding something. So she tests him:

"What happens if I say 'yes'?"

"Then our relationship with you changes a little. You're still under our protection, but you've also aided a wanted criminal. You're a criminal too."

"Then, no. I haven't seen him."

Tim lays sets his coffee down. He wishes he had her file with him. It would allow him to buy some time. He could leaf through it and make her wait. It would appear that he had to dig for information. She wouldn't have to know that he had every line of it memorized and that one issue was forefront in his mind.

She watches him and waits.

Tim gives in.

"So, you never knew your daddy?"

She shakes her head and then pauses, frowning.

"But _you_ know," she says. "You know and you want to see if I know."

"I know that your mama started a paternity suit and never saw it through. She never told you about that? She tell you that's why she moved you to Harlan?"

"My mama said a lot of shit, Marshall. By the time we moved to Harlan, I'd learned to disregard most of it."

"Who did she tell you your father was?"

Eden exhales deeply and crosses her arms over her chest. She looks away from him. When she looks back again, she's smiling, defeated.

"Bo Crowder."

"So, you've known, all the time."

"I've known that's what she said. Like I told you, the woman said a lot of things."

"But you never had any inclination to find out for sure?"

"You ever meet Bo Crowder?" She asks, but doesn't wait for an answer. "I have, and he was as repugnant a man as ever walked the earth. I can't imagine- if my mother was in her right mind at all- what would have drawn her to him. If I let myself think on it, I have to entertain the idea that it might not have even been consensual. He was an ugly man, and even if he wasn't, it don't matter. He's dead. I missed my shot to ever find out anything more about him."

"But that would make Boyd your brother."

"Yeah, and what a treat that would be. You think it would make a difference to him? Look at the way he used up and spit out Johnny and Devil and Raylan's daddy. Loyalty only means anything to Boyd if it's you being loyal to him. That street only goes one way."

"Well, if you ever did want to know…"

"Why would I?"

"We could test you. We have Boyd's DNA."

Eden shakes her head.

"I don't want to know. I put it out of my head a long time ago. Pretty much the minute after I met Bo Crowder for the first time. You know what kind of shit went down in the back of that bar? If that's my nature, I'll just stick with the nurturing I got, however inconsistent that was."

Eden sits back again. Tim gives her a minute to collect herself. Then he asks,

"Did Devil know?"

"I don't think so. I never told him. If Boyd and Bowman knew, they never let on. Hell, Bowman used to hit on me. Devil beat the ever-loving shit out of him once. Boyd let him. Stood there and watched, Devil told me. Boyd loved his little brother, but that could take a backseat pretty quick to Boyd maintaining order. If Boyd knew about the possibility of me…it must have never been of any use to him. If there was an angle, you can bet he'd have found it."

"We're kind of thinking along those lines ourselves," Tim says. "Maybe if he did know, it would keep you safe."

Eden shakes her head. "I don't believe that for a second. You never saw him and Devil together. They were like brothers by the time I left. Joined at the hip, always plotting and scheming something. Didn't stop Boyd from doing what he did. Devil outlived his usefulness. I've never even made myself useful to him. What do I have to offer?"

"Maybe we could come up with something? Make it look like you had something to offer."

"You think you're going to outsmart Boyd Crowder, kid? Out-fox the fox? No offense, Tim, but your mind just don't work that way."

"Are you saying I'm not that smart?"

"No, I'm saying you don't have that kind of head. In a town full of heroes and villains, you're a hero. I don't doubt that for a second, but that ain't going to help you with guys like Boyd and Devil. You have to think like a villain if you want to play ball with Boyd."

Tim scowls and shakes his head. It dawns on him: "That's a song, isn't it?"

"The Beach Boys."

"Now I'm going to have it stuck in my head all day."

"You're welcome." She smiles at him. She thinks- maybe- that he relaxes just a little.

* * *

><p>It had bothered Boyd all the way back to Harlan. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. First, he leaned forward and crouched over it and then he leaned all the way back in the seat and knocked on the window with the back of his other hand.<p>

"What's the matter?" Ava had asked him.

"Something Raylan said," he told her.

"Well, Raylan's just bothersome. You're out. He's still stuck being Raylan. Whatever it was, he just said it to dig at you because he couldn't keep you locked up."

Boyd shook his head. "He wasn't trying to get at me. He just said it. Did you ever meet Devil's wife?"

"Wife? When did he have a wife? I'd have liked to have met her. Would've been nice to know someone who understood what it was like being married to Bowman."

Boyd didn't have the heart to reply to that. It wasn't how Ava thought at all; he never knew Devil to raise a hand to Edie. Ava would have hated Edie.

"Got married when they were kids. High school sweethearts, I guess you'd call them. She left him when he got sent to Little Sandy."

Ava said nothing. She couldn't help thinking, "When _you_ got him sent to Little Sandy, Boyd."

"What's Raylan got to do with her?" She had asked.

"I don't know yet. She's talking to him, and the Marshall's are looking out for her. I know that much. She must know something about something. If you knew her and Devil…I can't imagine him keeping her in the dark about our doings."

"They cut you loose, baby. They'd have held you if they had anything. She's probably just wanting to know what happened to Devil. They'll tell her it was Arlo and that will end her wanting anything to do with Raylan."

Boyd shook his head. He changed the subject, but the thought kept nagging him.

First thing the next morning, he's up and in his truck again. He drives into Cumberland and waits for Johnny to open the bar.

"Well, well, well," Johnny says when Boyd walks in. "What're you drinking, Free Bird?"

"Johnny, did you know Edie Raney before she and Devil got married?"

Johnny shakes his head. "Nope. Didn't know her really until after she married him, when they came back from Lexington and I gave her a job. I think when she was a kid, she got busted once for underage with a bunch of other girls, and I got busted for serving them. She was never anything more than a name on a citation though."

"Her maiden name was Harper, right?"

"I guess so. It's been a long time, Boyd."

"Do you remember there was a Harper woman that slapped my daddy with a paternity suit? He sent you and me and Bowman around to rattle her a little. I think we shot out the rear window of her car."

"Yeah, I was going to kill her cat and Bowman pitched a big animal-lovin' fit. Edie didn't have no kids, though. It wasn't her…"

"No, it was her mother. She was accusing my daddy of being Edie's father."

Johnny shrugs. "Well, anything's possible."

"But is it true?"

"Don't know. She dropped it. That woman was bull-goose looney, from what I always heard. Always in and out of the hospital. Queen of Thorazine. What difference does it make?"

"It could make quite a lot of difference," Boyd says. "If Edie's got information about the jobs I pulled with Devil, and she's giving it to the Marshall's, perhaps she could be persuaded to recant that information if she knew I was her brother. You and I would be all the family she's got left."

"You and I?" Johnny rolls his eyes.

"Well, yes, she would be your cousin."

"By blood," Johnny says. "Unlike you, I always did like the girl. She worked her ass off in here, and you could carry on a half-intelligent conversation with her. Never could turn her on to baseball. She knew her basketball, though. Whatever the case, I don't know her any better than that. Her mama's say-so and your daddy's not denying it don't make her family."

Boyd stretches and stares out across the bar. "Don't it make you curious though?"

"No," Johnny says. "You think you're going to give her your 'It's In Your Blood' speech and she'll be so overcome with devotion that she'll take up for you and recant to the Marshall's? I don't think she's like that."

"Everybody needs family," Boyd says. "Where would we be without family?"

Johnny chooses not to answer that one. He pushes himself back behind the bar and pours himself a shot. He sure needs a drink even if Boyd doesn't.


	18. Chapter 18

I do not own Justified.

Dialogue, so much dialogue.

**Troublesome Girl- Eighteen**

Knowing how he feels about Ava now, Boyd does regret causing discord between Devil and Edie. Hindsight is twenty-twenty, like they say. If he had to do all over again, perhaps he would play the "family" angle with her. It still probably wouldn't work; Johnny's right on that. The girl's smart and determined, but is she smart like a Crowder? She'd see sense even if she didn't give in to sentimentality.

It makes Boyd a little sad that the time for pulling family together is over. Or maybe it's a different family now. He has Ava. Edie has no one, and Boyd did that to her. He can't see her coming back to the fold.

He rises out of bed early. Ava stretches next to him.

She asks, "Where you going to so early?"

"To visit my sister," he mumbles in reply.

"You don't have a sister," she says, but he's already gone. She hears his truck start up outside. She decides she must have heard him wrong and goes back to sleep.

* * *

><p>An undercover police officer relieves Tim. He goes back to the office. Rachel is at her desk. Tim taps his fingers across it in front of her. She smiles up at him.<p>

"Guess who I think I startled this morning?"

She raises her hands. "I give up."

"Arlen Raney Junior at his former sister-in-law's house."

"What makes you think it was him?"

"Because I got a look at the tail end of him. He looked a lot like Devlin Raney only younger. And Eden Harper lied through her teeth to me when I asked if it was him."

Rachel nods. She frowns across the room at nothing for a moment and then says to Tim:

"I don't think he did it. I don't think it was him who shot Charlie Raney. It's just a gut thing, but..."

"You got a good gut," Tim says. Call it women's intuition or whatever you want, Rachel is usually right on these things. Tim is, too, if he'd trust himself. He'd rather trust Rachel.

"He's still running because the same people are after him," she says.

"Who does your gut tell you that is?"

"Experience tells me Crowders, but Boyd was in custody that night. Dewey Crowe still is. That cousin of Boyd's- Johnny- I believe he could pull a trigger same as always, but I don't know if he could make a fast enough getaway. Who else is there?"

"Flunkies," Tim says. "And Ava."

Rachel rolls her eyes. "Not the woman. She's no Lady MacBeth."

"Neither is Eden," Tim replies, "but she was unaccounted for then, too."

"Charlie Raney was a drug dealer. There's plenty of competition up here in Lexington. From what I know, his MO was usually to stay on the Tennessee side and let the flunkies make the drop-offs. So, either shooting him was a mistake and AJ's running for nothing or Charlie was shot by someone on a very short list of someone's."

"The only one I know of on that list was Eden." Tim sounds disappointed.

Rachel shakes her head. "No, there's one more- the other Lady MacBeth, Charlie's Lady MacBeth."

Tim squints. He has no idea who Rachel has in mind. He's just relieved that it isn't Eden Harper. The faster Rachel figures it out, the less chance there is of Eden and AJ doing something to stupid trying to protect him from a threat that doesn't even exist.

* * *

><p>Raylan doesn't want to go to Knoxville with Rachel or anyone, but she's already made the call to KPD, requisitioned the vehicle, and bought him a coffee for the road when he arrives at work the next morning.<p>

"Last time I was in Knoxville…" He groans.

"Well, you didn't entirely burn the place down," Rachel says. "Charlie Raney's house is still standing."

"Why are we going to Charlie Raney's house again?"

"We're not," Rachel says. "We're going to the Knoxville Police Station. They should have Henrietta Raney in custody when we get there."

"And who is Henrietta Raney again?"

"She goes by Hattie. She is…was…Charlie's wife, and near as I can tell the only person besides Charlie who knew he was coming up here that night."

Raylan raises an eyebrow and sips his coffee.

He asks Rachel, "You got a feeling about this one?"

"No, actually. I just don't have anything else."

"Then we're wasting our time."

Rachel shrugs. "Perhaps not. It's a nice morning. Maybe it will just give me a better feel for who Charlie was. Maybe…something…"

The elevator door opens. She looks up at Raylan with tired eyes. He tips his coffee cup in her direction.

"Shall I drive?" He asks.

Rachel smiles. She'd like to sleep, and Raylan will let her, but they both know that she's going to spend the drive pouring over the files trying to figure out what it is that she's just not getting yet.

* * *

><p>The Knoxville Police pick up Hattie Raney on her way home from work at six in the morning. She's pulling away from her job at a Flying J on the west side of town. They flip the cherries on behind her and she curses Charlie for not fixing that brake light. Then a lump catches in her throat. She apologizes to Charlie and God and pulls the car over to the curb.<p>

They let her call her mother who is staying overnight with the kids. She hopes maybe the cops have something to tell her, but she doesn't get that feeling. They aren't sheepish and sympathetic the way they were when they came to tell her he'd been killed. They're more formal now, stern. She doesn't like it.

There are Federal Marshals waiting to question her at the station. When the questions start, it dawns on her why they're here. She isn't going to take any shit from any black lady Marshal. Hattie about loses it, cusses her blue and green. The lady Marshal takes it all in, almost seems to enjoy it.

The other one- the one with the hat- never says a word. Hattie waits for him to lean forward and flirt a little- play good cop. He doesn't. He never takes off that hat, which Hattie thinks is rude.

"I loved that man," she sputters. She's exhausted. She's been working for ten hours. She had to keep sneaking away to the women's showers to cry because she couldn't hold it together. The only thing worse than work and knowing she wasn't going home to her husband, she'd thought, was going home to her kids. They're little; she keeps having to remind them that their daddy's gone. This, though- being questioned about like she's the criminal- this is almost worse.

"Shit," she says. "Why don't you ask Stoney? You ask him about any of this yet?"

"Who's Stoney?" The lady Marshal asks.

Hattie snorts. "Al Stone. He has people in Lexington- family- so he'd always go up and hand off for Charlie. Charlie hated Lexington. He never liked to go there so he always sent Al."

"Thank you, Mrs. Raney," the lady Marshal says.

Hattie scowls at her. It's like someone flipped a switch. Suddenly, she's congenial and the weight is off of Hattie.

They tell Hattie she can go. Finally, the Marshal in the hat speaks:

"I'm sorry for your loss, Mrs. Raney."

He sounds genuine, but Hattie is just so damned tired. She can't help herself.

"Why don't you go fuck yourself," she says.

He tips his hat and nods like he might give it some serious consideration.

* * *

><p>Boyd parks his truck in front of the Lexington Public Library. Eden's car isn't anywhere to be seen, but he figures she could have walked.<p>

He spots her right away when he gets inside. She's behind the circulation desk, stamping something. She doesn't look up. Boyd looks up at the security camera and smiles. He imagines Raylan watching him from somewhere. He hitches up his jeans and walks across the foyer to the circulation desk.

He opens his mouth to speak, but she says, "What?" first.

Boyd smiles. He leans across the counter towards her. The Marshal's service has installed a small black and white monitor next to the computer with the card catalog on it. Her cell phone lays beside it.

"You call 'em?" He asks.

"You got about three minutes," she tells him.

"I don't plan to stay."

Her breath catches a little in her throat when he pulls the gun on her. He pulls out from the back waist of his jeans and presses the barrel against her heart.

"Are you or aren't you, Edie?"

"Am I what?"

"A Crowder. You had your chance once before…to turn me in…instead you brought that ATF fellow right to me, and you have to know what happened to him. That probation officer of Devil's- you knew what was going to happen there too. What I can't figure is if you were just using me for the services I could provide or if you kept calling me because you knew that I'd always protect you like a brother."

Her bravado always surprises him. It shouldn't, if she really is his sister, but it always catches him off his guard.

"You dumb, self-absorbed son of a bitch, Boyd," she says. "You think you were the common denominator?"

"Who else?"

"Who else? My husband. Those things I did, those calls I made to you, I did that to protect Devil. He loved you like a brother, Boyd. I was foolish enough to think you'd look after him like one."

Boyd pulls the hammer back with his thumb.

"So, no, then?"

This whole time, she's been looking down at the gun against her chest. Now, she looks up at him. There's fear in her eyes, but it doesn't stop her from running her mouth.

"Which answer's the one'll get me shot?"

"You're saying you ain't my sister?"

"I'm saying it wouldn't matter to me if I was. I chose my family, and the only family I ever had you took from me."

Something flashes in her eyes, but it all happens to quickly for Boyd to read it. She must've seen something on the monitor. Boyd doesn't even get a chance to turn. The blow to the back of his head knocks him forward. His forehead smacks against the counter. He hears the gun go off and then everything is dark.

He comes to slowly. He can hear voices around him. He can feel the cold floor. The first thing he sees is Raylan's boots standing next to him.

"Why, Raylan Givens," Boyd begins.

"Jesus, Boyd," Raylan says. "You're not even conscious and you're still talking. What does it take to shut you up?"

"Where's Edie?" Boyd asks.

"If you're asking 'is she dead', then I'm not sure. You fired, she's bleeding, but she's somewhere else doing that. She took off with whoever clocked you in the back of your head."

"That wasn't you?"

Raylan hisses in annoyance. "No, it wasn't me. If it was me, I'd have shot you."


	19. Chapter 19

I do not own Justified or "Fire In the Hole".

**Troublesome Girl- Nineteen**

Half the city of Lexington will leave its keys in the ignition when running an errand. Of all the vehicles in the vicinity of the Lexington Public Library, AJ has to pick Boyd's to steal. He pulls Eden with him to the curb and chooses the truck because he likes a manual transmission. Three on the tree- he guesses the clutch is tight and the choke sticks. He knows trucks like this like he knows his own bed back at KSCI.

He gets Edie in on the passenger side and shuts the door. He runs around the front of the truck and doesn't notice the Harlan County plates. He jumps in next to her and pops the clutch. The engine races; the choke is stuck. AJ jams it in gear and then stretches his arm out in front of Edie, preparing for the truck to jerk hard into first. It does. She presses her lips together and emits a stifled squeak.

"The Marshalls were coming, AJ," she says. "They _are_ coming. They'll see you on the camera."

"We can be gone by then."

"Gone where? I think this is Boyd's truck…"

AJ doesn't know where he's going. He's going to need directions from Eden just to get out of town.

He asks her, "Where'd he hit you?"

Her arm is bleeding. She pulls her fingers away from where she's clutching it. The fabric of her shirt is torn and soaked in blood.

"Through and through?" AJ asks hopefully.

"Grazed me, got me good, though," she says. "Going to make a cool scar."

"Shit. I'm sorry, Edie. I shouldn't have let him get close."

"He'd have shot you if he'd seen you. What the hell were you doing there anyway?"

"Watching you."

Eden groans and curses. AJ thinks it's from the pain. She's groaning, though, because it feels like everyone is watching her these days. She wants to disappear. That's how her mama would've played this: tired of your surroundings? On the rocks with your old man? On the rocks with someone else's old man? FBI checking into your taxes or lack thereof? Just disappear- that was Karla Harper's answer to everything. Eden was never as successful at it as her mother.

"So, what's your plan?" She asks AJ.

He gives her sheepish grin. In another situation, she would've liked seeing it. It was an attribute he and Devil never shared. If she caught Devil in a lie or doing something stupid, he'd get pissed and try to throw it back on her. Devil always had an excuse- usually not one any better than an estimation of how drunk he was at the time.

"AJ," she says. "I think you ought to take me home."

He shakes his head. "No way."

"Yes, way. Take me home. Let me get cleaned up. You take my car. You'll get farther in something that isn't stolen."

"Edie, he told me once…" AJ is still shaking his head. He's unnerved. He wipes his nose with the back of his hand. "Me and Devil was up in the hills…he told me I was to take care of you. If anything happened, he said just because you and him was split up that you was still my sister-in-law 'cause you never divorced him. You was still family, and I was to look…"

She smiles and lets him fade out. She can do the math in her head. Even after he'd pulled the gun on her at the church, Devil still considered her his girl. It was irritating at hell- the sheer machismo of it- but it was comforting in an impractical way. No one knew her the way Devil did. He knew saying it would irritate the shit out of her, but he'd gone ahead and said it anyway.

"He told me the same thing," she says. "He told me I was to look after you too."

That isn't entirely true. What Devil had said once, after AJ got arrested for racing cars and called Devil to bail him, was that AJ didn't know his ass from a hole in the ground. He'd said AJ was a hopeless case, beyond help. Then he'd gone and bailed him anyway.

"He didn't say that," AJ protests.

"He did," she lies all the more. Grinning, she adds, "He said in school they said you were borderline retarded. You might never be able to live independently."

"Bullshit!" AJ says. He almost punches her arm, but retracts it just in time.

"AJ, take me home. Take my car. I know people- weirdoes my mom used to hang with. I'll give you the money to get to Oklahoma. They'll get you to Utah. You ever been to Utah?"

He shakes his head. "Where the Mormons are?"

"Yeah, but these ain't them. Way weirder than Mormons. Kid, just do what I tell you. Take me home and I'll set you up. You got to get out of town, out of Kentucky. Will you do what I tell you?"

AJ ponders this. He doesn't quite believe her- that Devil left him in her care- but then Devil never lied to him either. Edie's smart; AJ's always thought so. When they were in high school and he was in middle school, he used to wonder how a guy like his brother could land a girl like that. It gave him hope that maybe a guy like himself could find one too.

"God. Fuck it," he whispers. He stops at the next light and looks at her. She gestures for him to turn left and he does as he's told.

* * *

><p>Boyd is on a tear. He's about ankle-deep in his own revival act.<p>

Raylan leans back in his chair at the conference room table and half-listens to Boyd postulate on the unfairness of it all: someone hits _him_ in the head, knocks _him_ unconscious, but he's the one being charged with attempted murder.

"Because you're the one who pointed a gun at Eden Harper," Raylan reminds him. Again. "It's on camera."

"You have no proof that it was my intention to kill Mrs. Raney. The gun only went off because a mysterious third party struck me from behind."

"Your gun was loaded, Boyd. If it wasn't your intent to shoot her, why go in with a loaded gun?"

"Raylan Givens, I don't think I should have to explain to you the illogic in that statement. Who carries an unloaded gun? There's no point."

"Boyd…Jesus," Raylan sits up again. "The gun was loaded. The gun is not registered. There were children present in the library. Your truck was double parked. You were harassing Eden Harper. Take your pick- we're going to hold you on something."

"Speaking of my truck…" Boyd says.

"Found your truck," Tim says, breezing into the conference room. He drops a file down in front of Raylan and waits for him to look at it. When Raylan doesn't, Tim rolls his eyes and continues speaking to Boyd. "The truck is fine. You're going to need something to get blood out of the upholstery. Whoever clocked you and stole your truck also gave Eden Harper a ride home."

"The Marshall's office will be glad to consider any bill you want to submit for that," Raylan offers. "For the upholstery."

He doesn't wait for an answer. He picks up the file Tim brought him and follows Tim out in to the main office.

"So who's the hero who popped Boyd upside the head?" Raylan asks.

Tim gestures to the file. "Go ahead. Open it. It's in here. There's pictures. You won't even have to read."

"Can I just guess? Was it AJ Raney? Where's he at?"

"Miss Harper claims not to know. She says he got her out but that she passed out in the truck. Woke up in her apartment. Upon her miraculous recovery from a pretty minor gunshot wound, she came to and called us. Says she has no idea what happened to AJ."

"You tell her that AJ's off the hook for Charlie Raney?"

Tim nods. "He's still looking at going back for the walk-away. I'd guess he's fled the state. He's going to keep us entertained for a while. Art wants to put Eden Harper in Witness Protection."

"You tell her yet?"

"It's you she likes," Tim says. "She'll take it better coming from you."

Raylan shrugs. "I don't know about that. I thought you and her were getting along just fine."

"You can tell her," Tim says, shaking his head. "Or Art. One of you can set her up."

He takes his unopened file back from Raylan and turns back to his desk.

* * *

><p>Boyd guesses they're packing her up and getting her out of town. That's the only reason they're holding him. They don't have anything else or they'd have charged him with it. The Marshall's don't have jurisdiction over the Lexington Public Library. That's LPD, but no one has spoken of transferring him. They're just holding him until they get Eden out of town.<p>

* * *

><p>She opens the door and then leans against the frame when she sees it's Deputy Gutterson. He nods at her arm.<p>

"Hurt much?"

"Like a son of a bitch. Nothing a couple of drinks won't carry me through."

"Chief Deputy Mullen called you?"

She nods.

"Did you pack?"

She smirks. Tim has escorted people into Witness Protection before, and they're never excited to go. Edie is no different. She's put off packing, hoping to stall the inevitable. She steps aside to let Tim into her apartment, to show him how little progress she's made.

"We can keep you in a safe house for a few days. Marshall's service can pick up anything important you've left behind. We can deal with the sale of your car. We have people who do that…"

"I already did that," she interrupts him. When he frowns at her, she insists, "That car was tight. Took good care of it. Sold it to a student."

He knows something is off. She hasn't packed the pictures on her wall, but she sold her car in less than twenty-four hours. It doesn't sound right.

"Where's the title transfer?"

"Packed it."

"Let's see it."

"Christ, are you my dad?"

"I thought we'd had that conversation."

She crosses her arms across her chest. She thinks he's funny, but she's too annoyed to say so.

"I packed it," she tells him again.

"Whatever, Ms. Harper," he sighs. "What else you pack?"

Eden gestures to a blue duffel bag on the sofa. It's jammed full, but it's just one bag.

"Not too attached to anything else," she explains when he doesn't say anything.

Tim understands that well enough. Her bag isn't any bigger than the one that returned with him from Afghanistan to his parent's farm in Texas. When he packed up again and left for Glynco, he didn't pack anything more. He came to Lexington with that bag and a second one for his laptop.

"Might take that cat with me, if I can catch him," Eden is saying. "The one on the porch. Did you see him when you came in? Can I take a cat?"

Tim tells her. "I didn't see him. If I see him later, I'll catch him for you."

He doesn't know why he makes her such a promise. He doesn't like cats much, and they don't like him either. He shouldn't be prolonging this.

He steps around her and picks up the bag.

She follows him out the door and across the porch. She pauses to look for the cat, but he's nowhere to be seen.

"So you're the only one?" She asks.

Tim is halfway across the yard. He turns around.

She says, "You're the only one who'll know where I am?"

"Me and Art…Chief Deputy Mullen."

Eden nods, but stays standing where she is.

"Where am I going?"

"I'll tell you in the car."

"Is it far away?"

"Not for tonight. Tomorrow, yeah. Kind of."

"Do I ever see you again?"

She shifts her weight and looks down like she's embarrassed to have asked.

Tim tells her, "It's not that far."

Eden nods. She steps down from the porch and Tim continues on his way to the Explorer. He goes around to the driver's side, unlocks it and tosses her bag in the back seat.

He reacts before the first shot hits the hood. He hears the hiss of the bullet through the air, draws his own weapon and gets down against the side of the Explorer.

"Miss Harper, get down," he tells her. She's already down- he can't see her standing on the other side of the Explorer. "Miss Harper… Eden, stay down."

There is a screech of tires in the alley. The shooter is gone, Tim guesses. He gets his phone out and calls Raylan.

"Where's Boyd Crowder?" He asks before Raylan can say anything.

"Sitting here looking at me."

"Did you give him a phone call?"

"Yeah, he got one last night. What's going on?"

"I'm at Eden Harper's. Shots have been fired. I think the shooter is gone. I'm guessing it's someone Boyd sent."

Tim stays low. He slides around the back of the Explorer.

"Where is Eden now?" Raylan asks him. "Do you need back-up? Can you get her out of there?"

Tim doesn't answer. The sniper in him is impressed with the shot. He couldn't have done much better himself. Through and through. The blood from the exit wound in her forehead is beginning to pool. The entry would at the back of her head is clean, nearly hidden by her blond hair.

"Do you need back-up?" Raylan is still asking him.

"No," Tim says. "I need the coroner."


	20. Chapter 20

I do not own Justified or "Fire in the Hole". Cory Branan performs the song "Troublesome Girl".

Uh, sorry about the delay! I thought it would be an awesome idea to write a big old Justified story to tie me over in the off-season. Turns out I really rely on the show being on for inspiration. Seems like I always come back to Tim and Raylan's relationship in the end. Thank you to everyone who stuck with me and read and reviewed.

**Troublesome Girl- Twenty**

…_And I'm pressing on at the breaking of dawn wishing she was still here by my side…_

Johnny had always liked the girl. He'd heard the stories, the rumors, and he remembered his uncle sending them to rattle her mother into dropping that paternity suit. Even back then- as he was fixing to shoot her cat out of the tree in front of the house- he caught himself hoping the rumors were true.

He didn't have any girl cousins- just Boyd and Bowman. He always thought it would be nice to have a girl in the family. He'd tease her about her hair and her clothes even when she actually looked real pretty. He'd intimidate her boyfriends. He'd never let her do any of the things he and his Uncle Bo hired other girls to do at the bar.

Johnny pulls the truck over on the Kentucky River Bridge on his way back to Harlan. He tosses the rifle over the side and watches it fall. He figures he'll miss that rifle about as much as he'll miss Edie, and he figures that's what makes him the guy Boyd calls when he needs something done.

It's Boyd's way of sending a message- killing two birds with one stone, as it were. Johnny isn't the most agile of Boyd's crew these days. He can walk, but he's slow on the retreat. His back hurts from the ride up from Harlan. As much as he hates to admit it, he wouldn't have been his own first choice.

But Boyd never does anything without intention, and Johnny gets the intention behind this crystal clear. Boyd had his own sister killed. He expected Johnny to be able to kill her, Johnny's own cousin. Family is family and Crowders are Crowders, but business is also business.

Boyd knows, Johnny figures. He knows about Johnny and Limehouse, and this is his way of reminding Johnny of his place. Devil forgot his and Edie wouldn't accept hers. Anyone is expendable.

* * *

><p>Art is giving him a pep talk about how it's always hard when it's someone your own age. Tim is only half-listening because he thinks Art is wrong. He's seen plenty of guys his own age shot down. There's no reason why Eden's death should bother him any more or less.<p>

"She was likeable," Art is telling him, "and she was pretty. We shouldn't notice those things but we do. It makes it harder."

Tim nods. She wasn't particularly likeable, he thinks. She was nothing but trouble, really.

She was pretty, though- even prettier because she didn't seem to know it.

Getting no verbal confirmation of understanding- much less an emotional outpouring- from Tim, Art sighs and gives up.

"You write that report, then?" He asks.

"Yes," Tim answers. "Almost finished. Just a couple of things I want to tie up."

He'd rather not ask Rachel, although he's sure she'd know the place to call. He'll have to look it up: some kind of animal shelter or rescue. Then he'll have to go back to Eden's and catch that cat.

* * *

><p>Eden Harper has no next of kin. The library has an emergency contact on file. When Raylan calls it, it's her landlord. He thanks the man and hangs up.<p>

His nostrils flare in a silent rage at how utterly alone Boyd had left her. He calls the medical examiner back and offers to take custody of the body. He requests that she be cremated because he doesn't know what to do with her otherwise.

"You want the other one, too?" The medical examiner asks.

"What other one?"

"The one that you found down in Cumberland. Nobody's come after him either. She was supposed to. She was his wife, right?"

Christ, no, Raylan does not want Devil's remains.

"Sure, what the hell," he tells the coroner. "Put 'em in the same urn and swish 'em up real good."

When he gets to the ME's office later that day, there are two urns waiting for him. Apparently, the medical examiner didn't think Raylan was serious or didn't think he was funny. Raylan signs for both sets of remains and carries them out to the Town Car. He calls Art.

"Am I allowed down to Harlan now?"

"Why? You run out of people to shoot up here?"

"I've been put in charge of Eden Harper's remains, and her late husband's."

Art snorts, then says, "Maybe you should take someone."

"I'm not taking Tim," Raylan tells him. He knows that's what Art is implying.

Art argues anyway. "I didn't say anything about Tim. I said take someone, maybe someone who also knew the deceased and might benefit from a sense of closure."

"I don't think I'm going to be able to give him the kind of closure he's looking for," Raylan says and hangs up. He starts the car, pulls away from the curb, then groans and calls Tim.

"Gutterson."

"Yeah, no shit," Raylan says. "It says so right here on the little screen. Where are you?"

"Trying to catch a cat."

"Is that some kind of innuendo or are you really trying to catch a cat?"

"It's a real cat, and it does not wish to submit to protective custody."

"Where the hell are you? Art says you're supposed to accompany me to Harlan." Make it sound like Art ordered it; make it all Art's fault.

"I'm at Eden Harper's…former residence. You got a touch with cats?"

"Well, some would say…"

"That's innuendo, right?" Tim asks and then hangs up before Raylan can reply.

When Raylan pulls up in front of Eden's apartment building, Tim is still trying to catch the cat. Why he is so obsessed, Raylan can't begin to guess. He puts the car in park, but leaves it running.

"You got a plan there?" He calls from the curb.

The cat in question is sitting on the roof of the porch, and Tim is standing below looking up at it.

"You got anything to feed it?" Raylan asks when Tim doesn't answer.

Tim reaches in the pocket of his jacket and pulls out a Ziploc bag of celery. He shakes it at Raylan without taking his eyes off of the cat.

Raylan curses quietly and goes back to his car. He doesn't tell Tim he'll be right back because he's already tired of saying stuff to Tim and not getting an answer. He gets in the car, peals away from the curb and drives around the corner to the c-store. He buys two cans of Salmon Special Delight cat food with peel-off lids and a cup of coffee. Then he returns to the apartment.

Raylan gets out of the Town Car tapping on the side of the cat food can with his fingernail. The cat leaps off of the roof and over Tim's head before Raylan can open the can.

Tim turns around to Raylan, looking annoyed.

"You draw more flies with honey, as the saying goes," Raylan tells him. He bends down and scratches the cat between the ears. It arches and lets Raylan scratch down its back as well.

"No comment," Tim says. "Why are we going to Harlan?"

"Because Art said."

"Since when do you do what Art says? There's got to be something in it in your favor."

Raylan shrugs. Tim picks up the cat and carries it towards the Explorer. He opens the passenger door and takes out a carrier with Lexington Humane Society inked on the side. With some trouble, he stuffs the cat in it and closes the gate.

"Nothing in my favor," Raylan says. "Official Marshal business, and there's no one I know more official than you."

Tim opens the back door to the Town Car to set the cat inside. He sees the urns lying together in a box in the back seat. He sets the cat down and then leans against the roof of the car to look at Raylan.

"Who's the other one?"

"Devil."

"Serious? You know I got nothing to say over…I have nothing to say over either of them."

"I know. That's why I'm taking you. Neither of us have anything to say. We just drive down, do it, and we're done."

Tim shakes his head. "I don't believe that. You're never done."

"You neither. See? We didn't even have to talk about it. Where are we taking Mr. Whiskers?"

"Rachel's. Nick's getting a cat."

Raylan frowns. "Can we do that after? Rachel's…got a thing with the Almighty. She might insist we say something."

"If you want to ride to Harlan and back with a cat."

"I've ridden to Harlan and back with worse," Raylan says. He gets in the Town Car and Tim gets in beside him.

* * *

><p>A green DOT sign with white letters welcomes AJ to Oklahoma. He still feels edgy. The people Eden spoke of- the ones who will get him to Utah- they're still clear across the state, almost to Texas. He's hungry and he's still miles from Oklahoma City.<p>

He'll reach the town of Henryetta first. It's a small town. He'll be memorable as a stranger, but he's willing to bank on a lower grade of technology. That's where he screwed up holding up those gas stations in Lexington- they all had cameras. The ones out in the sticks with no surveillance, the cashiers could never identify him in a line-up when the time came.

He pops the glove compartment open and takes out the .45 he picked up at a pawn shop when he got to Arkansas. He'd loaded it and then stopped off at a rest area and fired a few shots just to get the feel of it. His brother'd taught him that. Devil was good with guns. He always told AJ to get the feel of a new one before he tried to use it in a hold-up. _Every gun is different_, Devil'd told him, _everyone one of 'em feels a little different, reacts a little different- just like women._

"The hell you know about women?" AJ had said. "You ain't never had but one in your life."

"That's 'cause I know about women," Devil had insisted. "I treat her right and she ain't going anywhere."

AJ didn't know what he thought about that now. Devil was full of shit about so many things. He did know guns, though. Thanks to Devil, AJ figured he was going to be good and ready when he hit Henryetta.


End file.
